Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Knockout had been quite sure of his decision at the time that he didn't need to keep any part of what had been left of his lover. It wasn't Breakdown any more, and he didn't need a piece of a dead husk to remind him of who he had been. So, it was a surprise to him when he did keep a piece anyway. It was somehow easier, in this one small thing, that it hadn't been his decision.

A couple of days following the death of the human parasite, Knockout had found something near his main computer console in the medbay: the distinct, diamond-shaped plate that had adorned the front of Breakdown's crest, carefully carved away from the rest. The edges were rough, showing an untrained hand, and the gray had been roughly painted over with blue. He should have been furious. At first he was, ready to hunt down whichever suicidal bot had desecrated his sparkmate further. But, looking over the work, he had a realization.

No one would have touched the body but the vehicons. That was obvious, from the childishly sloppy work. Yet, there was a sparkling's care put into it. One of them had done it very much on purpose, and as well as they could. They'd even tried to match the color…

One of them had cared. He really shouldn't have been so surprised; Breakdown had never treated the drones with the same disregard as most others. He was too observant to miss that they had little bits of individual sparks to them, and had treated them accordingly - not worse or better than any other decepticon.

Knockout kept the gift. Between other projects, he smoothed the edges, and redid the paint. And he left it by his console. Tucked to the side, where it wouldn't be mixed in with other cast off scrap during an ‘operation’. He didn't look, often. It still hurt to look. But when things were going wrong, when the tension and stress of a war he now fought through alone tried to eat at him, Knockout would reach to where that plate sat, and run a claw across the surface. Feeling the familiar lines. Remembering. It was grounding, more than he had thought it could be. Maybe it made him too sentimental… but the brief moments of soothing calm were good for keeping him sane. So, he supposed it was worth holding on to. 

And slowly, it became a habit, something he did subconsciously when his tensions rose, and it helped. Even when he didn't realize he was doing it until his claw had run to the bottom tip of the diamond, it helped. The problem came from if he did it reflexively when someone else could witness it. Knockout tried very hard to keep that from happening. It was easy to be more aware of himself when under someone's scrutiny anyway. The last thing he needed was for someone to think he was using a piece of his dead partner as a security toy like an anxious sparkling.

There were times though that it was much harder to remember, his temper flaring high enough to make him try to search for that grounding to pull him back. And the mech invading his medbay was rapidly creating one of those times. The last thing he needed was to lose his head when handling Shockwave.

Especially when the arrogant freak of nature was holding that little bit of his lost mate between powerful, too-easily careless claws.

“How like you to keep junk in your workspace.” Shockwave huffed, his low tones vibrating the area around him like an aura. Every slight movement was accompanied by the heavy shift of his modified frame and the clicking hum of the energized chained cord connecting the massive cannon to his spine.

“Oh, like you’re one to talk.” Knockout sneered back, waving his hand in a sharp dismissal. “How many twitching drones do you have scattered about your lab right now? I’d call that ‘junk,’ but I have some decorum.” He leaned his hip against one of the berths, crossing his arms. He refused to look at the blue diamond, even when the light reflecting off the finish tried to draw his gaze. “So I suppose I’ll have to ask: what in the Pit do you want? I don’t often see you in need of a medic, commander.”

If it were possible, Knockout would swear the single optic narrowed. Shockwave took a moment to respond, claws still twisting the blue crest piece across his fingers. “Some of those ‘twitching drones’ you mentioned have been deemed fit for recovery. Preparing them for duty is now your concern, doctor.” He straightened, though he hardly needed to, given how he already towered over the red mech. “Unless you require an education on your job as well as your medbay conditions.”

Knockout bit back the most scathing responses he could have given. He wasn’t intimidated by the bot’s massive figure, he was used to being the small one in the room, but he knew he needed to play some semblance of ‘nice’ if he wanted the crest piece back without having to ask for it. “I’m quite familiar with repairing drones by now, thank you ever so much, my dear commander. I’ll keep such a generous offer in mind.” He also straightened, hand to his hip as he looked up at that glowing optic. “So you came all the way over here to tell me that? That seems rather, hmm, inefficient. Losing your touch? Or was there something else?”

Shockwave leaned , frame whirring and hissing as he did, despite the cold indifference in his tone. “When you understand efficiency you may consider discussing it with me.” His hand pressed to the table as the towering form loomed, pinning Knockout's last piece of Breakdown beneath it. “Soundwave is occupied with important matters. I am not so lazy I would send a simple drone to do my work.” He straightened, but not enough to lift his hand from the table. “I have my concerns about your work ethic, but I still expect you to behave professionally when it concerns our cause. Is that clear?”

The medic huffed his displeasure, toned down from the outright scoff he was tempted to give. If Shockwave put that much weight down on the crest piece again, there was a chance it would…

“Duly noted, commander. Though I would like to remind you that we are of similar rank - when it comes to medical matters, I make the calls, our cause always in mind.”

Shockwave’s claws bit into the berth. “In medical matters…” They lifted, and before Knockout could properly react to the piece being freed the medic found those claws around his chin, forcing red eyes to meet one yellow optic. “But do not forget that I outrank you in every other meaningful way. I have far less tolerance for disrespect than our master does.”

Knockout hesitated, briefly, weighing his options. He either backed down here, and lost whatever mind game the mad scientist was playing with him - if it was anyone else he’d think Shockwave was doing this on purpose - or he rose to the challenge, possibly risking life and limb if the sparkless creature decided he was in need of proper correcting.

He didn’t look at the crest piece. He pictured it, and the face it adorned. Pictured how much Breakdown would practically howl in laughter if Knockout managed to get a proper rise out of Shockwave...

“I haven’t forgotten, commander. But, to coin an earthling phrase, if you are in my medbay talking slag, you can bite me.” He allowed the smirk to play across his lips, setting a hand on the berth as he shifted into a more casual stance. He subtly set his claws over the metal piece, reclaiming it without yet snatching it. “Though I suppose that would be difficult for you.”

Somewhere, deep in the rumble of the other mech’s voice, vibrating through those claws into Knockout's throat… he swore he could hear Shockwave sneer. “I’m not here to reward you, buy-bot.” He lifted, just enough to pull Knockout's pedes from the ground, to force his servos to grip Shockwave's arms or choke, before dropping him back against the berth. His expression, unreadable as always, did little to obscure the smug satisfaction in his stance. “I'll be monitoring your progress. I hope you're a better medic than you were a racer.”

Knockout recovered quickly, finding his footing without too much undignified scrambling. He was already venting heat, his anger turning acidic as he glared into the scientist’s unfeeling gaze. How the slag did Shockwave know so much about him? Racing was easy, the rest was something he hadn’t heard in so long it stung to hear now, but it only fueled the fury. “Apparently you’ve been ‘monitoring my progress’ for a while now, haven’t you? What, couldn’t trust my credentials, had to go digging? I’m impressed, you must have had to scour every record left on Cybertron to find information about one specific street slut-for-hire.” He grabbed Breakdown’s crest piece in one servo, shoving past the bigger mech with the other, engine revving. “So I didn’t win the Iacon5000. I’m not going to take slag from you about my capabilities, stalker-bot. You can take your opinions of me and shove them up your fragging valve.”

His mistake was apparent the moment he felt those claws around his throat again. He was yanked backwards, spinal column held against the rumbling warmth of Shockwave's chest plate, every thrum echoing the bot’s words. “You were invited to this ship on Starscream’s recommendation. I am well aware of the pretenses that was under… I have been informed of your ambitions.” He snarled, and Knockout felt the cannon comprising the mech’s other arm clank against his side, faintly pulsing with contained energy. Surely he wasn't charging it? A bot with less control could tear the hull with that thing…"Do not insult my intelligence with insistence that an investigation was unwarranted.”

On instinct, Knockout’s servos moved to his throat to fight the other mech’s grip. He immediately dropped his servo holding the metal, curling his digits around it as tight and protectively as he could. He wasn’t going to lose it to this bastard.

“F… fine. I don’t care. Let me go. Now." He retracted his servo, buzz saw flipping into place. If they were playing at threats, he would match Shockwave’s with what he had. He kept it near those claws, but didn’t activate it. Yet.

Shockwave's grip shifted, tightening for only a moment. Knockout was released with a huff, shoved aside as Shockwave stepped away. “You should care. You have already lost your protection once, and our master’s trust is not easily regained.” He waited, watching far too closely as Knockout righted himself. “Soundwave claims your loyalty has been sufficient, but I will not risk my efficiency being held back by vanity or misplaced pride. If you damage my position, I will not be this gentle again. Is that understood?”

The medic stared for a long moment, holding his guarded stance. He was again at a crossroads. And he hated that he knew what the right course of action was here. He had no interest in ending up on Shockwave’s torture table.

Knockout slid back into a straightened stance, eyes narrowed as he contemplated the weight of his response. He held the crest piece close to his side, and flipped the buzz saw back away. “....understood. Your position won’t be affected by my work. I believe my track record can attest to my own efficiency.”

“I'll be monitoring that “track” record closely.” Shockwave was still too close, even a few steps away. Knockout wasn't entirely sure where he was looking either. Damned cyclops. “I'm satisfied that we understand each other, then. You will report your progress regularly. You will inform me of anything you require for completion.” Shockwave paused, repeating himself with emphasis, his head tilting down to Knockout’s servo, or maybe his waist, it was hard to tell. “Including removal of distractions as needed. Is that clear?”

He couldn’t help it. Knockout held the remnant all the closer, instinctively wanting to keep it away from the hulking decepticon’s gaze. It made it all the more obvious, but Shockwave had already figured him out. He most likely wouldn’t be able to keep it much longer, at the very least not in the medbay. It… made his spark sink. “Clear as crystal, commander. You’ll be the first to know. I’ll collect a couple of our intact vehicons to help me move the damaged ones here for repairs.”

“Good. I expect your best, Knockout.” Shockwave turned, still watching Knockout's side and servo until the last moment. “I will return before the next solar cycle begins. We’ll review your progress.”

Knockout bit back another retort. Shockwave expected him to repair all of his broken little experiments that fast? He knew anything less wouldn’t be seen as much in the way of progress. Whatever. He had the skill for it. He didn’t need a fragging degree for it. This buy-bot had more to him than Shockwave had in his entire empty spark cavity. “Understood. I’ll get on that, then.”

Shockwave didn't turn, didn't reply. Knockout could hear every step as the huge mech walked down the halls and finally out of sight. Good fragging riddance.

Chapter Text

Knockout wasn’t sure how he had missed the heavy thumps of Shockwave’s pedes until he was already entering the medbay, unannounced as usual. Probably because he had been so focused on his work. After their ‘conversation,’ the medic was determined to get the fragging bastard off his tailpipe by proving he could handle whatever the scientist could throw at him. Knockout had his own reputation to uphold as well. And in any case, it would only increase his standing with the army of drones if he cared for them well. After Breakdown’s death, they had at first been wary around him, but were now starting to warm up. It was spreading that Knockout wasn’t going to rip them apart just because they were injured, and in fact would treat them about the same as Breakdown had. Knockout usually saved the dissecting for special occasions and special ‘patients’. Usually. So, they liked him, and as much as the drones held no sway in the politics of the Nemesis, having a degree of loyalty from them could only be an advantage. 

…Especially now that his sparkmate was gone. Shockwave hadn’t been wrong about his protection having been stripped from him.

But now Knockout had the massive warmech at his shoulder, and it took an annoying amount of concentration to keep that from bothering him as he finished the welding job on his second to last patient. It wasn’t helped by the vehicon’s flinching, cowering movements while under the gaze of its former tormenter.

“If you could give me just a moment of venting room, I can give you the report when I’m finished.” Knockout replied, defiantly keeping his gaze fixed on the drone and away from the hulking mech, despite the commander’s request. “I’m a little busy right this klik.”

Shockwave took a step closer, leaning slightly to peer over Knockout and study his work. His silence didn't last. “Understood.” He stepped back. Not far but… out of Knockout's radius. What the frag? It seemed so strangely out of character for Shockwave to hover. He didn't need to, at his size and strength. Whatever. The medic was, in all honesty, most likely just hyper aware of it at that nanoklik. He didn't like the idea of being choked out again. Not under those circumstances especially.

It didn't take long to finish the weld. It wouldn't be pretty until the drone had a chance to heal on his own, but it was a perfect line that held the plates back together, only disturbed slightly by the first unexpected flinch from the vehicon. It would heal with hardly a mark left behind, less so if the drone was able to get the paint fixed. Before sending him off entirely, Knockout had the bot help him settle the last drone onto a berth, an eradicon with a wing that had been twisted into barely being attached anymore, and wounds down that entire side to match. She had all but smashed into something hard, and was lucky to have a wing left to salvage at all.

His last patient situated, anesthetics applied so they could start working on the numbing process and the unfortunately small amount of rationed energon given to accelerate her healing, Knockout finally turned to give Shockwave his full attention. His gaze flickered briefly and unbidden to the console, and he reassured himself yet again that he had put the remnant of Breakdown away and out of sight until he could move it to his quarters. “Alright commander, I'm all yours for the moment.” He didn't bother to keep the sarcastic edge out of the statement.

The rumble of Shockwave's systems were quieter today, more of a hum than a building storm. The moment Knockout acknowledged him the cyclops stepped closer again, studying the eradicon in one cursory glance before settling the weight of his gaze on the medic again. “Report.”

Knockout resisted the urge to step back, the mech's overwhelming presence making his spinal column itch. But like slag would he do so. Instead he settled into a more casual stance, not giving the cyclops the satisfaction of an at-attention pose. “As you can see, I've examined and repaired six out of seven of the damaged drones. Four of them will need a few solar cycles of light duty - I can provide my approximates for each. The other two are cleared for field work. The eradicon here,” he lazily gestured to her, “will need at least a couple of decacycles of complete rest, then three more of light duty. The wing will reattach, but she cannot use her alt mode until it heals.” The medic crossed his arms, lightly tapping his claws to the metal of his forearm. “Unless you want the nitty-gritty details - which I'm sure you do - that should be about it.”

Shockwave stepped closer, studying the eradicon more intently as he invaded Knockout’s space again. “At least rushing has not made you sloppy. Two out of seven is…acceptable. For now.” Claws moved to the patient’s wound, trailing around it with unclear intent. “About those details… do they include an explanation for why you are in such a hurry?”

Knockout's optics cycled. He found himself actually caught off-guard by such a question. “Well, I-” I assumed that was what you wanted, oh great lord of efficiency. “I…found their injuries to be well within my capabilities to repair. And I suppose I slipped into a bit of a flowstate.” He chuckled mildly to emphasize the statement, stepping away to check over the eradicon's other wing again, and give himself a moment to stabilize the quake that had tried to enter his vocal pattern. Whatever game Shockwave was playing, he wasn't going to trip into it. “Your work isn't so dissimilar to mine, you understand how that goes.”

Shockwave turned to respond, and Knockout found himself having to look almost straight up to meet his gaze. “I do. A medic relying purely on talent would have risked making mistakes… not something most would try after our last discussion.” It sounded… almost like a compliment? The cyclops moved again, towards his workstation… towards the carefully hidden bauble.

Knockout's spark went cold. Hadn't he just proved his one little “distraction” wasn't affecting his work?!

The medic moved before he could fully think it through, swerving at the last moment to quickstep ahead to the console instead of moving in front of Shockwave directly. “I've got more than raw talent to carry me through. I do hope my notes on the procedures will make that obvious.” Knockout had to fight to keep the shaking in his claws from being obvious as he started to pull up the reports on the console screen.

Heat, right behind him, as the massive bot stopped with his chest brushing Knockout’s back. He leaned forward slightly, resting his claws next to the console, casually trapping the red mech between Shockwave and the desk, his only way out now an awkward hop over the massive cannon. “That was my hope. Show me.”

Knockout had to override his system's attempt to vent the heat that was building within him, the stress of the increasingly unpredictable situation eating at his core. He was not going to give Shockwave the satisfaction. He would rather overheat. Though he wasn't sure how much longer it would be before the one-eyed freak would feel it against his chest plate. Why the slag was he touching him??

“Sure, I know how much you like data, commander.” He risked the snark, though he quickly opened the files, starting with the drones that were fit for duty. “ Despite the state they were in, it wasn't particularly difficult to pull them back together. Their frames should be more than capable of normal duty now.” They would have been in better shape if you hadn't been picking them apart in the first place.

Shockwave hummed, a note that carried from his own massive frame straight to Knockout’s spark casing. “And the rest? What prevents their return to a proper workload?”

The medic shivered, the sensation too much to prevent the reaction. But he pressed on, determined to ignore it. “Four and five have similar wounds: cranial impacts, one deeper than the other, as you can see here. Four needed some wiring replacement and an extra dose of energon to expedite the merge, but it went quite smoothly. Five's internals were mostly undamaged, but the impact had been enough to jostle connections. The weld was easy, but I don't want him running about straining anything until I'm satisfied that nothing is fully disconnected…” 

The heat was growing to pressure. Tension didn't fully snap, but a burst of frustration put a short rev through his engine. “Will you please give a bot some space? It's hard to vent properly with your hulking chest plate shoved against my spine. I can put this on a bigger screen if you want.”

Shockwave shifted, pressing into Knockout for just a moment as he adjusted back. His own frame rumbled in response to Knockout’s revving, a threat acknowledged. The cyclops huffed again. “That won’t be necessary. I have seen enough for the moment. You seem to require additional energon and more supplies.”

“That is typically the problem, yes.” Knockout took a moment to compose himself, venting the heat, ignoring how obvious the waves were. He also tried to ignore how… cold …his spine suddenly felt, without the touch of the other decepticon's metal to it… His claws gripped the side of the console. Maybe he was distracted. For the briefest nanoklik, his spark ached for more contact. Primus, he longed to be in Breakdown's arms again… Sometimes he could still feel -

Knockout’s claws clicked against the metal desk, the sound snapping him back just in time to keep from fully reaching towards where he usually kept Breakdown's crest piece. He turned to face Shockwave, leaning his lower back against the desk as he crossed his arms. “Well then, I'm glad to have passed inspection. Now that that's behind us, I'll get back to it.” He was too full of nervous energy to stay put. He pushed back away from the desk and passed by the other mech, heading for where the eradicon was awaiting treatment. He hated leaving the crest where Shockwave could possibly decide to find it… but he couldn't draw any attention to it. As soon as the cyclops was gone, Knockout would pull it out and run it back to his quarters, damn finishing the job first. He really did need to make sure Shockwave couldn't distract him with it like this again. It was utterly ridiculous how anxious it was making him. This was one of the many reasons why he hadn't planned on keeping anything to begin with, but it was a bit late for regrets now.

There was a scraping sound and a thud. To Knockout’s dismay, the purple decepticon had settled himself against the front of the desk in his absence, arms crossed in exactly the fashion his own had been as he stared the red bot down. “I do not recall saying this inspection was finished.”

Knockout's knuckles clicked as he flexed his digits, frame groaning for a moment as tension moved through him in a wave. What now? To keep from fidgeting into an agitated mess, he shifted to set a servo to his tilted hip, narrowing his optics as he met that intense stare. “Okay, on with it then. I have a patient waiting.”

Shockwave turned, idly brushing through the tablets on the desk. “Your work is acceptable in this field, for being self-taught. What other expertise do you offer for the Decepticon cause?”

There he was just oh so casually dropping every detail of Knockout's history on the table again. In front of the drone, no less. The red mech finished crossing over to the eradicon’s berth, snatching tools to start setting the wing. The leaking wounds on her side had primarily sealed over with the help of the extra energon, enough that they wouldn't need an overly intensive welding. He could focus on the real problem. Problems , it seemed.

“What, being the best damn medic you'll find around here isn't enough to please you? I hear I'm also good for morale. Not many attractive things to look at on a warship, I'm happy to serve.” As much as he wanted to snap through his movements, he deliberately kept his servos steady as he worked. He was a professional . 

“I know how to successfully manage a few autobots, with the right tools in hand. I won't pretend I'm built for direct combat, but I've got a mind to make up for it. I'm more capable of blending in out there than the majority of you warmachines, if necessary. And maybe I'm not a proper scientist, but I managed to be of use in that department while we lacked your charming presence.” The medic finally looked back at Shockwave for the first time since he had started working again. “What else do you want? I'm a doctor and bodywork specialist. I'm surprised you're even asking - you seem to know everything you need already, commander.”

Shockwave's wandering claws slowed, peering beneath the tablet he had started to lift. He stared for a long moment, processing something, before dropping the tablets entirely and moving towards Knockout again. 

“I suppose I do …don't I?” He set one hand on the berth, again half-caging the medic, watching him with his usual powerful intensity. “We will finish this conversation later. Alert me when you are finished.”

Knockout hunched a little more over his work, trying to avoid touching the huge mech as he continued. “Why, do you have something else for me already? Strip down another drone while I was busy?”

“That would be illogical, given the shortage in our supplies.” Shockwave rumbled, his tone as cold as ever. “Don’t rush. I will send additional energon shortly.”

“Whatever you say, commander.” Knockout huffed, tired of the conversation and being yanked back and forth by the cyclops. Whatever Shockwave wanted next, he wasn't looking forward to it. He was already a little charge deprived from pushing to get the drones patched up in record time, which he apparently hadn't needed to do. Whatever. He'd at least proved he was better than ever at his craft. His assistant would have been impressed, even if he would have waved it off as having been expected anyway. Breakdown did know how to preen Knockout's ego just enough to keep him happy and smitten. It had always worked. “Shall I comm you, or go to the lab?”

Shockwave didn't turn, ducking through the medbay doors. “My lab. Don’t knock.” Knockout paused to watch him leave, listening and making sure he was gone. “Damned one-eyed freak.” He muttered. He grabbed the welding torch; he may as well finish, now that Shockwave wouldn’t be returning. He would take the trinket to his quarters on the way to the lab.

“One-eyed freak.” The eradicon murmured in agreement, almost imperceptibly. Knockout stared at her a moment before breaking into a chuckle. “Better not say that outside these walls… but I won't tell anyone.”

Chapter Text

This time, Knockout did take his time to report in. He patched the eradicon, cleaned up, then went back to his quarters. He found a temporary space for the crest piece in a compartment near his berth. He would find somewhere much more secure later, but he wasn't quite as worried about the cyclops tearing apart his private room just to find it. He took a quick, couple cycle recharge to help him cool down before whatever Shockwave had in store for him, then it was, rather unfortunately, time to go.

It was with great reluctance that the medic approached the door to the lab. He was expecting some kind of scan necessary to gain access, but the purple hulk of a mech really must have been prepped for his arrival, as the doors opened with only a slightly reluctant hiss when he got close. Odd… Knockout stepped inside and the doors slid closed behind him, trapping him in what was widely regarded as the most terrifying place on the Nemesis that wasn't directly under Megatron's wrathful gaze.  

For a bot that demanded Knockout be mindful of his “junk”, Shockwave's laboratory was hardly lacking in “parts.” The floor and pathways were clean, but columns of mech pieces, alongside entire autobot and decepticon frames alike, hung from the ceiling between massive tubes, creating swaying pillars he had to weave through. Shafts of light danced across the former racer's paint job as he sought the center, finally spying the giant operating table and its myriad restraints, freshly cleaned despite the purple, blue, and pink stains around its base. A single light illuminated the entire lab from above that table, casting a harsh sterile glow to all it touched. 

The whole place made Knockout’s spark prickle with instinctual discomfort. The place spoke of agony and death bathed in stark, methodic efficiency. Not that he could really point digits, having his own cruel streak, but his came in bursts of actual emotion, not from a pure, cold, unyielding lack of empathy. He drug his gaze away from the table, peering around the macabre columns of disassembly in search of the massive mech. It was a wonder, though somehow not unexpected, that Shockwave could disappear into the depths with ease, despite his size. “Commander, I'm here, as requested. I'm not really in the mood for hide-and-seek.”

The pillar of parts closest to him shifted, twisting about as though his voice had stirred the sparkless abominations within…

Shockwave stepped into the light from behind it, yellow optic flickering as it cycled out of its recharging state. 

With a huff he tugged his cannon free of a grey clawed hand, tearing it apart as he straightened. The scientist’s tone was distinctly annoyed. “I did not call you here to play games. Report.”

If they hadn't been in the heart of Shockwave's domain, Knockout wouldn't have been able to resist the urge to take a dig at the fact that the mad scientist was grumpy about being woken up. He wasn't positive he was keeping the amusement fully out of his expression, but he tried to keep his voice neutral, at least. “I've finished with the drone repairs. They're all well on their way to full recovery, including the eradicon. Her treatment went smoothly, though she will get the most benefit out of the extra energon supply.” The red mech leaned back against the surface behind him, used to doing so within his own lab. He had to keep from jolting when he realized it was the examination table. “So, task done. By my own diagnosis, I'm due for a break.” Take a hint. I'd rather be recharging, too.

Shockwave seemed to stiffen slightly, his optic flashing as it cycled, flicking down and up again. “...I did promise I would see to it you received what you needed… especially considering your work.” He was moving closer. Far too close again, engine warm and thrumming in ways only larger mechs seemed to manage. 

Knockout's spark practically stuttered. That wasn't the reaction he'd expected in the slightest, and he was no longer certain what this response even was. He tried to take a step back, bumping against the table, his servos pressing against the edge in reassurance that it definitely wasn't going anywhere. “Ah, well, I do appreciate the understanding. I'll…make the most of it.” The medic started to sidestep away to slide from between Shockwave and the table. He was so far beyond ready to put this whole fragging situation behind him, and the sooner he got out of that lab the better.

“Well, you do have a reputation for adapting.” Shockwave’s servo clasped Knockout's waist, seemingly ignorant of the rush of alarmed signals that sent through the medic's mind before effortlessly lifting him. In a moment, he was sitting on the edge of the table, Shockwave stepping forward, his servo pushing Knockout’s leg aside so he could fit between his knees. “You are long overdue a proper examination anyways, Doctor.”

The burst of confused terror sent a loud roar through Knockout's engine. He moved before daring to do anything else, shoving against Shockwave's chest plate to try to push himself further back onto the table. He didn't get far, the bigger mech taking a sudden grip on his ankle, preventing him from pulling away. Spark racing as panic built, Knockout's servo retracted to flip the buzz saw out, his other claws held up in a defensive spread. “WaitwaitWAIT, the frag are you doing?!! Why- in the Pit are you going to- I-I'm not one of your experiments!!”

Shockwave stared at him. His tone had an edge again. Harsh and calculating as it dismissed his very valid concerns . “Of course you aren't. They don't run.” He yanked, lifting as he did, knocking the medic onto his back proper. With those words, the slam of his spine to the slab, and his stabilizers still parted for the warmech, another horrifying thought occurred to him. Was Shockwave going to...?!? 

“Now. Are you going to relax or is being difficult part of the fun for you?”

Desperation driving him, Knockout had been just about to lash out at the scientist, the saw revving in preparation, when he registered what Shockwave said. His frame still shuddered in a tense, ready state, but he forced his mind to slow, his words following suit. “What. The frag. Are you talking about. Shockwave?”

The cyclops froze.

He stared down at Knockout, his thoughts even more obscured than normal. His hand was still holding the former racer’s ankle high, claws around his wheel, as he finally spoke again. “...have you gone so long without interfacing you don't recognize… I am trying to…?” 

He let go, dropping the stunned bot’s leg against the table with a nearly painful clank. He stepped back, and Knockout watched the audials framing the bot’s head move, tilting sharply backwards as his optic adopted an orange hue. His voice’s monotone was altered by a snarl. “...I am not here to play games, Knockout. I would appreciate it if you do not request assistance again if you do not intend to let me provide it.”

The medic could practically feel gears turning in his own head as he tried to understand what had just happened. What had he said that could have possibly been interpreted as wanting that, from Shockwave of all mechs?! He replayed the conversation over and over, trying to grasp where things had gone wrong, as he slowly moved back to sit on the edge of the table. He stared straight into the cyclops’ optic, trying fruitlessly to understand what was possibly going on in his head. And was…was the logical monster actually upset about this… supposed miscommunication?

“Commander. I am not in any way being facetious when I say: I have no idea how I gave you the impression I was requesting you to frag me. All I said was that I needed a break.”

“And you expect me to interpret that how exactly? We have discussed your former employment, I asked if you still provided those services, and requested that you see me as soon as your work was finished. How could you have possibly not understood my intent?” There it was again, that odd strain on the stoic mech’s tone, sounding almost angry … almost… hurt ? Adding to Knockout’s confusion, the mech’s hand started to move, emphasizing his words with sharp, sweeping jabs through the air. “Fine. Fine. Play games…. But I expected better from you.”

Knockout's vocalizer crackled static for a moment as too many words tried to form and then died all at once. Was he dreaming? Was Shockwave damaged? The situation was rapidly becoming so surreal it was hard to keep it all in focus.

“I-I..I… Shockwave. Are you telling me… When you “asked” about my former employment, you stated it as an insult! And I didn't- is that why you asked what my “skills” were? And on top of that, those were, what, two, three, unconnected conversations…?” It was even stranger that the discussions of the past couple of days were starting to make a perverse degree of sense, with the cyclops’ perspective in mind, even if it was still all fragged up no matter how he looked at it. “I never said any of those things - you plucked them so far out of context that I'm slagging impressed you could line them up!”

“I never insulted your previous professions.” Shockwave grumbled, sullenly glaring back. “Unless stating facts is somehow reprehensible to you… which would explain this predicament.”

“Oh stop talking slag!” Knockout snapped, sliding off the table with a heat venting huff. “Are you seriously so detached to think you weren't being a bastard when you were insinuating that I wanted you to “reward” me? Or when you fragging directly insulted my racing skill? It was the first time I've heard you actually use some damn emotion, what was I supposed to think??” He stepped closer, no longer afraid of the hulking cyclops. The situation was just too ludicrous. 

“And then you ask what skills I can bring to the cause. Well I've got news for you: I'm not walking about with a neon free-use sign. I expect to be asked like any normal bot would, not through the dodgiest coercion games I've ever heard! Did you really think I was so fragging desperate that I would just lay back and let you have your way with me?!”

Claws were around his throat. Heat radiated from the massive frame as coolant lost its battle against the pulsing energon within. The glowing optic was very nearly red now, bathing Knockout in its glow. In his own surging emotions he hadn’t realized.

The sparkless monster was angry.

“Clearly some misconceptions need correcting.” Shockwave snarled, his tone hard and cold as each word left his vocalizer. The weapon comprising his left arm thrummed in echo, doing its part in trying to regulate the racing energon within. “First. You were an above average racer. I genuinely hope you are a better medic, because a medic is currently more useful. Second… ” He stepped forward, forcing Knockout back towards the table again. “It was made very clear to me in my investigation that you are accustomed to companionship and regular tending, and your reliable source is no longer available. I did not anticipate volunteering to be a problem.” He all but tossed Knockout away from him, just hard enough for the medic to catch the edge of the table without harming himself. Behind him, he heard the emotion draining, rapidly, from Shockwave’s voice. “And third … third… I… ” He hesitated. His gaze flicked across the red bot’s form, his towering frame venting hard. He turned away. “...I realize this will not help either of our needs be met. You are dismissed.”

Knockout slowly straightened. He hadn't moved from where he had fallen against the table, and he found himself shaking as he tried to put more weight into his pedes. He… he didn't know what to think about what had just happened. Almost more importantly, he didn't know what to feel. It seemed that the rumors of Shockwave being sparkless were in fact false. That much was clear. And Knockout had crossed a line he hadn't known was there. He didn't feel guilty for what he had said. But…

He felt, ever so slightly, bad about it.

There wasn't much room for doubt at that point that Shockwave hadn't meant for it to be taken so wrong. And Knockout had leveled an intense accusation. Even among decepticons, forced interfacing wasn’t particularly encouraged, especially within their own ranks. It was the sort of rumor slung about by cybertronians in the Golden Age. A reputation many, many Deceptions had died over, breeding a resentment that often risked making it true.

“I… I clearly… misunderstood. Exactly what was happening here. I…” He was torn on how to finish the sentence. One way potentially made him soft, but potentially on Shockwave's better side. The other, a proper decepticon response. He wasn't sure which one would make this any easier to go forward from.

Ever so briefly, in the sterile light, he saw blue in the curve of the larger mech's shoulder, turned from him in silent acknowledgement of a wrong done.

“...I apologize for assuming that was…what you intended, Shockwave.”

The optic flickered, shifting from orange to a more familiar yellow. He turned halfway back towards him, searching the medic's expression silently for deceit. After a moment, the tension bled from his stance. “I will accept your apology on the condition that you accept mine… I should have clarified my intent before pursuing it.”

Knockout's optics flickered. It took a moment for him to fully process that Shockwave, current second-in-command of the decepticons, the sparkless mad scientist, had just apologized to him. “I… yes. I accept. I believe you didn't intend to be… vague. But from my perspective, I had no idea what you were asking.” He hesitated a moment, claws flexing with quiet metallic whispers. “...I didn't even know you were… interested in me at all. Unless it is purely to “tend ” to my needs? Our needs…?” 

Shockwave's modified shoulder hitched. His gaze was suddenly, stubbornly averted. “...social interactions are not one of my specialties. As I stated, I realize I failed to properly communicate my intent as your …superior. It is important to me that all assets under my control are functioning and properly tended…” He glanced at the table again. “...now that I am aware of your feelings towards me, I can reevaluate my own.”

“Now, hold on-” Unthinkingly, Knockout almost put his servo on Shockwave's arm. He paused, hand outstretched, now stuck with making the decision. He settled it there for the moment. The purple mech was still hot to the touch. “You haven't exactly made it easy for me to have feelings towards you at all that weren't under…assumptions.” Though he wasn't sure if the scientist's blatant, targeted disregard for the one piece of Breakdown he had left could be explained away. But he'd approach that later. 

“I thought you were rather pointedly putting me in my place.” He was going to leave it at that, but quickly realized it was a bit too vague for someone unused to ‘social interactions.’ “As in you would beat me into whatever place you saw fit, in the social hierarchy as much as the chain of command. From where I stood, you were establishing that you could do whatever the frag you wanted to me, whenever you damn well pleased, and I'd be a fool with a death wish to try and stop you.” He shrugged, a smirk playing across his face; his tension was easing a bit. “You know, typical warmech behavior. I'm used to being the pretty speedster they assume they can crush underwheel. You'd be far from the first I've had to fight to keep out of my valve in their dominance plays.”

Shockwave hummed. His audials twitched again, rising back into their default position. “...I suppose it is understandable you would mistake me for a warmech. I dedicated centuries to becoming one.” He leaned, carefully, into Knockout's touch. “I will not deny there was an intent to convey dominance… however, I had been led to believe you would find that acceptable. Enticing , even.” He cycled his vents, expelling heated air with terrifying efficiency, leaving the metal under Knockout’s claws frigid in moments. “I have spent so many vorns without first-hand sources, it did not even occur to me that they would be advantageous to consult. I will try not to rely on recordings and rumors for future interactions.”

It was understandable in this singular case, but still quite unnerving that anyone could assume that centuries old information on someone's personality would still be a perfect picture of who they were in the present. Even Megatron had changed in enough ways, though many were subtle, that Knockout wouldn't trust the records that much.

“First-hand is the only way to truly know a bot. Though I'm surprised you'd get that impression from race footage. Was it Breakdown that…” Memories of Breakdown swooping him up into a celebration kiss after a race played in his mind's eye. He didn't want to talk about it any more. “Anyway… I was trying to say, I don't have an informed opinion of you. And, well, I suppose I'm willing to make one. We're going to be working together for the foreseeable future, after all. I'd rather understand you than be misguided.” He flashed a smirk and a cheeky flicker of his optic. “After all, that would be quite illogical, wouldn't it?”

One audial twitched. The cyclops seemed completely calm now, watching every movement Knockout made with quiet focus. “Illogical indeed. I will adapt my strategy appropriately.”

Well, now that everyone was cooled down and the worst of the misunderstandings assuaged… what next? Knockout was still feeling a little off balance from the whole situation. But it was probably best to focus on the primary concern of the hour. Not one he would have ever anticipated Shockwave to even have. Talk about assumptions, apparently.

The red mech stepped back, leaning against the table again, now that he didn’t feel the threat of being thrown back on it. He retracted the buzz saw, though he was prepared to whip it back out again if necessary. “Sooo… Been awhile, then? Looking for an outlet?”

“...elaborate.”

Knockout had to hold back a sarcastic oh, you suddenly don’t know what interfacing is? , because he felt that the massive mech was being as honest as he could be. It was strangely refreshing, even if still incomprehensible to him that Shockwave wasn’t getting it . “You’ve mentioned that, while you seem rather invested in making sure I’m satisfied, you also have needs to be tended to. So I’m curious. I wouldn’t have pegged you for being… particularly interested in interfacing, but as I said, I’m throwing out assumptions.”

The purple cyclops looked over him again. “...I have a vested interest in all aspects of cybertronian biology. It is not an unfamiliar field, despite my reputation.”

The medic kept his sigh from being the frustrated one he wanted to expel. “Okay, ‘interest’ was perhaps the wrong word. Let me put it plainly: are you propositioning me purely because you think I want and need it, or do you also actually want and or need it? Is this purely business, or are you offering a side of fun with it?”

Shockwave’s optic cycled. His weight shifted again, from one leg to another as he considered. He held up his servo. “...I will be clear then. I am interested in interface with you. The responsibility is… a perk. A useful excuse at best.” Another vent of heat, his optic settling on Knockout’s hand again. “I would like a chance to satisfy a curiosity I have harbored for…some time.”

Knockout found himself staring into that single yellow optic for a long moment, processing. His claws clicked against the metal table as he rested them on its surface. Everything had flipped around on its head so many times in the past, what, several kliks? that he was feeling a little lost. Shockwave, the cold, calculating, logic-driven monstrosity the medic had heard whispered about for centuries, wanted him. Carnally. And hadn't known how to properly ask.

….what the absolute slag was happening. Breakdown would have found it hysterical. Go on then, hotspark, show ‘em a good time.

“For some time, huh? Since you started stalking me?” Knockout made sure the smirk was obvious, he wasn't truly attacking any more. “I do tend to inspire such fantasies. I…suppose I am not against the concept.”

“Since the races I believe.” Shockwave mused aloud, optic dimmed in thought. “I would need to date my acquisitions to narrow down the exact time.”

The red speedster blinked, his focus sharpening in a nanoklik. “Since the-... You knew about me back then?”

“You were very popular amongst my colleagues in the scientist caste.” Shockwave eyed him again, speaking slowly. “Almost as much as you were among the gladiators I treated in my spare time.”

Knockout’s response died in his throat as he realized what it was he was hearing. The scientist caste. Scientist. That of course made sense, but that meant….

Shockwave had been an Autobot, or at least worked among them. Not so far removed from the Velocitronian medic himself, at least in the eyes of the average Decepticon.

Oh.

Now was perhaps not the best time to pursue that juicy detail. But he certainly wasn't going to forget it.

“Ah, I see. I did enjoy the variety of fans I attracted. Gladiators, the laborers at first. Old clients that spread the word around. I knew I was getting places when the university bots started paying attention. It’s been quite awhile since I’ve met a fan.” He leaned in closer, letting their height difference play up the sultry glow of his eyes. “Always wanted to get a closer view, then?”

Shockwave, for having so much room, suddenly looked very trapped. The evasive optic seemed locked onto Knockout’s, his clawed servo half lifting before retreating behind his back again. “...that would be…accurate. I have not encountered this… particular urge very often outside of my studies… you could say you are respon….” He stopped, audials flicking back again. “Nevermind. I would prefer discussing how to proceed.”

Now that sounded intriguing. But it didn’t feel like the right time to push. The purple mech was already doing a lot of work to open up at all, and Knockout didn’t want to scare him into closing off again. Besides…he was actually growing genuinely curious about how this might go. Who knows, maybe the steely commander could surprise him. And it really had been a while…

“Hmm…” The former racer’s hum thrummed through his frame as he lifted a servo to his chin. His gaze met Shockwave’s, then trailed over and down his frame, following the curves of his chest plate, the length of the massive cannon (he wasn’t sure what he was going to do with that in the way yet, but he’d figure it out,) down the decepticon’s body all the way to his pedes, then back up, to the plate he knew from plenty of experience was the one hiding away anything sensitive. He let his optics linger, just long enough that he hoped it would make the bigger bot squirm a bit, before he looked back up to the glowing yellow eye that watched him so intently. Shockwave really wasn’t a bad looking mech. He had a lot of the features Knockout typically found outright attractive. The medic just hadn’t bothered to look before that moment.

…He would have to get used to the lack of expression in anything but those audials and optic color, but the red mech was, in fact, adaptable. 

But Primus he missed Breakdown’s warm, familiar smile, the most vulnerable and beautiful one that he saved just for him…

“Well… I am still between work at the moment. And I haven’t… really taken the time for this kind of break recently.” Knockout set his hand on Shockwave’s arm again, holding a bit tighter, as his other claws ran oh so slowly and gently down the surface of the integrated cannon. The purr of his engine traveled straight into his vocalizer, adding a warm undertone that he knew could drive a mech wild. “Let’s see if we can keep smoothing out all the little details while we satisfy our curiosities. We’ll need the data before we can make a final decision about how we proceed from that point, won't we? For now: your quarters, or mine?”

Shockwave’s stare flickered again. This time, Knockout followed the black dim all the way from his optic, through the cannon, up his spinal column and back through his eye again before he spoke. Had they… had they just rebooted? “I…y…m-mine. Larger berth.”

Knockout was going to argue, after all his and Breakdown's berth was quite big, but it didn't take much to note that Shockwave was in fact a fair size larger than even his sparkmate had been. That was going to cause all kinds of interesting challenges, but he was willing to experiment. Plus he wasn't sure he could do much but agree with the purple mech at that moment, or he'd find himself saying something about the reboot. He'd actually fragging rebooted from being flirted with.

“Right. Shall we then?” The medic stepped away to head towards the door, allowing his claws to finish running the length of the cannon as he did so. Shockwave jolted, moving to follow him in a half-stumble, muttering a curse as he nearly entangled himself in one of his own columns. Oh, this was going to be fun, one way or another.

Knockout didn't turn back, hoping that would keep Shockwave from noticing his brief snicker. Besides, he had been told often that the view back there was quite good. Especially when he made sure of it with just a touch of extra sway to his hips. “Hmm, I suppose I'm lucky that my “junk” doesn't attack me when I walk by.”

Shockwave growled something back, his voice lost in the bass. He caught up a moment later, reaching past Knockout to open the door before he could exit. “After you.” Knockout only barely paused, waving a hand in acknowledgement. “Why thank you, commander.” They were in the open, it was back to business as usual, until they were behind closed doors again. At least that gave him a good excuse to not make a jab at the unexpected ‘chivalry.’ It was most likely just the scientist’s way of reminding him who was in charge. Well, they'd see who was in charge of what by the time the night was over. 

Chapter Text

Shockwave waited for the door of his quarters to close, allowing Knockout a moment to acknowledge the spartan conditions. The commander had returned quite recently, carrying only what he needed for his lab, so it was hardly a surprise his quarters lacked decoration. Before he could comment, however, Shockwave's claws settled on his waist again, the cyclop’s optic lowering to hover near his shoulder as he spoke.

“I will need a few kliks to prepare. If you have doubts or queries, you have until I finish to communicate them.”

Knockout nodded, contemplating how Shockwave’s hold felt on his waist. It wasn’t bad, when it wasn’t unanticipated. “Right…” He moved further into the nigh empty room. “Cozy in here. Could stand a bit of color. Maybe a nice vase.” With a lack of much else, he crossed over to the berth and perched on the edge. He stretched lazily, gaze seeking out the hard-to-miss mech. “I suppose I'll have to do for decoration tonight, hmm? Red goes with nearly everything.”

“So it seems.” Shockwave hummed. He moved to the bedside table, his gaze never straying far. “...To be clear… I expect full discretion on your part. Nothing we do in this room will leave it. Is that agreed?”

Knockout settled, deliberately exiting his flirtatious frame of mind and body for a moment. “Agreed. I’m not interested in damaging your reputation. And despite my reputation, I don’t share anything my partners don’t want shared. Discretion is as important here as in my medbay, when applicable.” He leaned back on one hand, relaxed but alert. They were in the rules section of the game, and given their prior misunderstandings, he wasn’t going to miss anything. “So, we keep this private. Anything else?”

Shockwave’s hand was tracing over his own cannon. Nervous habit? Could he have those? “First and most obvious, no sparks.”

“Obviously.” Knockout had to fight to keep the bite out of the response. He wasn't letting anyone near his own spark ever again. “No disagreements there. Next?”

Shockwave’s claws stopped, each tip perfectly aligned with nigh-imperceptible grooves. “Next, you will not attempt to harm me without warning and permission.”

The medic nodded, now watching with interest. There did seem to be a method to the movement of Shockwave’s claws. “I’m not a sadist in bed, not like that anyway. And I would like to make that another mutual rule.” The fact he was stating it as ‘without warning and permission’ was intriguing. Did the mad scientist occasionally like having the tables turned? 

“Very well. I will not harm you without warning and permission… not here.” He slid his claws deeper, settling them into what looked to be an awkward but practiced angle until something clicked. “Next, I will not enforce my rank here, but I will not tolerate blackmail outside of our quarters. Finally….” The metal cannon shifted, folding rapidly in on itself along twisted seams. The cannon folded neatly into a large weapon, still impressive but no longer attached. It was placed on the dresser, the spinal cable following shortly after. He turned back to Knockout, finally giving the medic a proper look of what the cannon had hidden. “...I would appreciate it if you kept mockery of my modifications and injuries to a minimum. They serve my needs, despite their inelegant aesthetics.”

Shockwave had another arm. Nearly obscured under attachments and ports for that cannon were the mangled, healing remains of protoform and upgrade skin. The hand was practically struts, wrapped in just enough nanite flesh to look soft. Knockout knew he was staring… but he had a feeling Shockwave expected that. It was a grizzly sight to take in - not the worst he’d seen in his career, but the fact that it was still in this condition, when he hadn’t ever heard of Shockwave not having the cannon, was… indicative.

Shockwave watched him for a moment, then silently stepped closer. He held the arm up, exposed and vulnerable, for the doctor’s inspection.

Knockout stood, and with his most careful touch, supported the mangled appendage as he looked it over. From what he could tell, it must have been completely, violently removed at some point, for it to be in such a state. There had been nothing to reattach, nothing to graft. It was regrowing from only the barest remnants. And it…wasn’t going as smoothly as it could. Not with all of the modifications drawing energon and confining it to the shapes required to bear them. His centuries of medical practice ached at the sight. This was unacceptable. But, as every instinct in him screamed: Shockwave knew it. And he had accepted it. Knockout’s opinion wouldn’t make a fragging difference.

“...I’m a doctor. I know better than to mock something like this.” He let go with the same care that he had held it. “I’ll leave it out of my options for commentary.”

Shockwave nodded, stepping back again to return to the table. His claws were…wandering his body. Again. “What accommodations and boundaries do you require?”

Knockout decided he wouldn’t think too much about the cyclops’ injuries, not that night. They had other priorities. He compartmentalized his wandering thoughts and let the arm just be what it was. He was rather practiced with that sort of thing. The former racer sat back down, leaning back as his gaze slid to the ceiling. “Hmm… One, I’m well aware that nicks and scratches and abrasions are unavoidable in a good interface, but I prefer the paint not be overly abused. Gouges take such a fragging long time to properly touch up.”

Shockwave’s optic dimmed again, this time in thought as he studied the red frame again. “...I am willing to assist in touchup after our session, if that eases your concerns… but I will try not to damage your frame. Despite the size difference, I believe that is manageable.”

Knockout eyed him, feeling a little skeptical, but this was a session of giving the benefit of the doubt. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised if you’ve got some actual skill with a buffer. Guess you’ll have a chance to demonstrate.”  

“A chance to learn if I don’t perform to your standards, then.” His claws fell away from his own plating and he moved to the berth, taking a moment to settle himself beside Knockout. “What else?”

Sitting beside him, it was made obvious all over again the difference in their size. Knowing what was coming, the red mech was starting to feel the uptick in nervous energy, and it was a struggle to not fidget as his body itched to move. Exactly how much of it was from excitement or that nagging anxiety was impossible to tell. “....well, since we’re satisfying needs here, and since I’m assuming I’m the one at risk of being spiked through, we stop if I tell you to. I’m a professional, but I’ve got a limit somewhere, and I’m not interested in finding it the hard way.” His tone was no different than any of the rest of the conversation… but Knockout found it hard to look at the bigger mech as he stated the obvious. It felt childish, not something someone of his caliber should ever have to say…

But then again, he’d briefly been on that “operating” table. They don’t run. 

“...Fine. I assume you will want to lead, then… I expect you to show me my expected limits.” He had half-turned, his servo tilting Knockout’s face upwards by the chin again. “I am not interested in rushing this. Do what you must to be comfortable.” 

Knockout felt the touch of too much warmth already radiate from his own frame. He ignored it. “Alright. Then I think we’ve covered it.” He curled his claws around Shockwave’s wrist, tips lightly tapping the metal. “Going to help me lube up, or should I make a show of it? Unless you have something else in mind to start?”

“I’ll help.” Shockwave reached into his personal subspace, retrieving an unmarked container in moments. “This has been sufficient in the past. If you would prefer something traditional, there is Slix-X in the cupboard.”

Studying the bottle, the medic wasn't sure he liked the idea of something handcrafted by the so-called mad scientist being shoved up his valve… but he was living dangerously tonight anyway, and this was probably the least of any concerns. Why the frag not.

“If it's been to your satisfaction, I'm not worried about it.” He let go of Shockwave's hand and grabbed his shoulder, turning and placing his other hand against his chest plate as he pulled his stabilizers up onto the berth. He let his fingers splay and feel across the plate as he leaned up towards the cyclops’ face. The red mech wasn't going to go buy-bot on this mech… but he did need to set a mood. So he offered a sultry smile, and a soft purr through his frame. “Let’s see if we can do this a bit smoother this time, now that we're on the same page, hmm~?”

The larger mech’s audials tilted again, optic dimming as a hungry rumble vibrated under Knockout's fingertips. His mismatched hands settled on the racer's waist with more confidence, tracing seams and plating with dedicated curiosity. “Let’s. How would you like to start?”

Knockout hummed a pleased note, his own claws seeking out the lines of Shockwave's frame, automatically looking for transformation seams. He knew how sensitive those could be. “You've been wanting a closer look for quite a long time. I'd be happy to give you a klik to get familiar. And when you're satisfied…” His hand trailed down the mech's side, ghosting lazy digits across metal. “I'll take my turn.” One claw tip slid inward, finding the top seam of protective plating and lightly tracing it. “How does that sound?”

Shockwave's vents hitched, optic dimming to a deeper golden glow. He gave a single warning as his grip tightened. “Tell me if I risk hurting you.”

He stood, spinning to face the berth again with Knockout cradled to his chest plate before bearing down. The clawed hand sought Knockout’s wrist, pulling it above his head before shifting to weave between his digits. His other servo was already moving, roughly exploring seams and plating with the precision of a mech that had done this before.

Knockout's surprised intake turned to a vent of warmth as he sighed an approving groan, optics dimming as he laid his head back. He held tight as he dared to the hand holding his, relaxing his other arm up to loosely mirror the pinned one. “Take your time, I'm not going anywhere.” He let his stabilizers relax further apart, giving the bigger mech room to roam as he liked.

“No. You aren't.”

The purple mech pulled Knockout closer by the hip, stepping forward to press their plating flush together. He huffed a sigh of relief, a low growl of approval following as his hand trailed down, pointedly tugging Knockout's right leg around his left hip, digits pausing to play with his thighs. He pressed Knockout's hand against the berth for a moment, purring his engine. “Keep those here for now. They'll need their energy.”

The racer shivered, pleasure running up through his nerves and spilling inward to warm chambers left dormant for… since last Breakdown had made them burn with want. No, it hadn’t been Breakdown the last time, he had to remember that. Makeshift had been a wonderful actor, but not truly his Breakdown… Knockout pushed the memory aside, focusing on the moment. He hooked his leg more comfortably around Shockwave’s hip, and obediently - for now - let his servos rest. “Noted. I’ll let you handle this then, commander.”

“Your cooperation is appreciated~” Shockwave’s claws never fully lifted from Knockout's frame, trailing carefully down from its hold, sinking into every curve but somehow never catching despite their fine points. They pressed just hard enough to avoid tickling the upgrade skin, but just light enough to send his sensor net buzzing. His other hand worked inwards, across the central transformation seam at the racer's waist before playing upwards. His hands met in the middle, pressing across the complex layers comprising Knockout's chest.

The red mech was definitely enjoying the attention, and he made sure Shockwave knew it. His frame rumbled with the waves of delicious sensation, accompanied by his vocalized hums. Whenever Shockwave found one of his most pleasing seams or layers, he made it known with an encouraging groan, arching into it, without interrupting the other mech's flow too much. He knew Shockwave was paying attention. 

“Mmm, I take back anything I said about you not having an interest in this. You do seem to know your way around a frame that doesn't involve taking it apart.” Knockout teased, bringing his other stabilizer up to rest a little more loosely around Shockwave's hip. “Though I hope you'll have me coming undone by the time we're through. Think you're up to the challenge?”

“By the time I'm done…” Shockwave leaned down, close enough for Knockout to hear his vents flexing to maintain his temperature, close enough to feel the rush of energon racing through his pumping spark… close enough to feel the rumble of the warmech's frame press between his thighs and rev hard enough to shake the bed. “We will both know how much of me you can handle.”

Oh. Oh. That did it. Knockout’s claws bit into the berth, a rush of heat and energon sending a responding rev through his own frame. His hold around Shockwave’s waist tightened, instinctively not wanting to lose any of that touch to his plating. “Good. I’m looking forward to taking all of it.” His prior concerns be damned. He was about to get fragged and he was finally very excited about it. “Keep it coming, then. I work best running hot.”

“I know. I watched you race.” Shockwave purred, pressing closer instead of pulling away, chest to chest, hands roaming from wrists to ankles with nearly feral abandon. He knelt on the edge of the bed, framing the red hips under his own, grinding the sensitive casings together. “The room is soundproofed. Don't be quiet.”

Knockout groaned again as his vents flexed with the influx of heat to manage, meeting the grind of Shockwave’s hips, but he kept his volume under control, pointedly. “Mmmn, then I expect you to make sure I have something to be loud about, Shockwave. I don’t strain my modulator for just anything.”

The warmech growled, optic casting a warm glow across the red plating as it roved. The clawed servo slid up Knockout’s side, pressing under the seams of his chest armor, a threat to sensitive upgrade skin beneath, his hand mimicking that movement on his hip, searching for the release latches. “Port, valve, or spike first?”

The racer’s vocalizer hissed with static for the briefest moment. That sensation across his chest would quickly drive him mad if he didn’t get equal stimulation elsewhere. But he refused to immediately open up… just made sure those latches weren’t locked. The other mech could do the work. “Valve. I’m looking forward to experiencing you prove all that talk.”

“So am I.” Shockwave rumbled his approval, his digits finally slipping into that elusive latch. He paused, letting the seals depressurize as his claws sought the releases for his chest plate as well, content to take his time despite the urgent pulsing of his engine, still pressed flush to the smaller mech’s. 

Knockout’s optics flickered as he fought the urge to squirm, the touch of air flooding into the compartment and over the sensitive parts within always a welcome and scintillating one. He was suddenly very aware that fluid was already beginning to seep into his valve, activated by his rapidly growing want. Distracted, he didn’t catch himself from releasing the lock on his chest plate as well, easily opening up to Shockwave’s unending touch across his frame. Slag, it’s been awhile. “Watch the claws, otherwise have at.”

“I intend to.” Shockwave gently prised Knockout's armor away, one plate at a time, setting the shell aside to admire the upgrade skin beneath. The singular gaze made it easy to trace his focus, from the racer's chest to his face before slowly drifting back down, both hands following, to settle on either side of Knockout's hips. The medic sensed the spark of mischief before the warmech moved, utilizing his grip on the former racer to lightly drag Knockout's exposed valve over his own pelvic plating, letting him feel the heat pressing within. He continued to lift and press the racer up and down in perverse mimicry of grinding. “How do you feel about teasing?”

The red mech’s claws dug harder into the bed, optics turning off entirely for a moment as he swallowed the moan down into a thrumming hum, more pitched than he’d like. But it was fragging hard at that exact time. “I practically expect it. It makes great foreplay.” And that was completely accurate. Normally. When it hadn’t been months. But he would enjoy this, slag it. The racer kicked his venting into a brief overdrive, the rev only adding to the sensations, but he looked back up at the cyclops with a smirk, and ground himself in to the movement. “Enjoying yourself, teasing me? All that heat, it must be getting excruciating in there~” 

“I’m used to being pent up, Knockout. Making it pleasant isn't going to make me faster.” He revved back, holding the mech in place for a moment to make sure the sound carried. He leaned down again as he repeated the rumble, vocalizer laid across Knockout's neck as he spoke, nuzzling and purring with surprising efficiency, given his helm. “Besides~ My hands are busy. If you want that barrier out of our way you'll have to use your own pretty claws.”

Oh fragging Primus this bot was pushing so many of his favorite buttons already. Knockout's frame shuddered as he forced down the desired response to reach out and rip that plating off. Instead, he extracted his claws from the berth and finally let his hands start to work, caressing the sides and tracing the seams at the base of the purple mech's massive chest plate. “Mmmmn…  Fine, if we're playing a degree of fair. But I'm going to have to get this slaghuge thing out of my way. I can barely reach anything around it.” There were so very few places where the racer could get his claws into; almost every plate that he figured would allow him to slip even the tips of his digits under to tease at the upgrade skin was guarded, every potential weakness accounted for. So, he changed to following the seams, pressing enough to drag through the grooves, searching for the well-hidden release. 

The purple mech’s vents stuttered, a groaning sigh spilling hot and cold air across both frames. “Ah…r-right… I forgot.” His optic dimmed for a moment, body tense as he focused. Knockout felt a thunk from somewhere inside the frame, just as his claws found the external latch. Had the slagger rigged it to lock from the inside? Knockout was suddenly grateful he hadn’t needed to treat the massive mech yet. He’d have had to cut his way in in an emergency. An argument for another time, considering the urgent manner in which Shockwave resumed his reverse grinding, adding the stimulation of his own hips moving to meet each thrust.

Knockout had to pause again, holding the plate in place as the seal depressurized, groaning as his own venting made another shudder rattle his frame. He tightened the hold of his legs around Shockwave's waist, demanding the flush press to stay there, while also searching for just a small bit of slow to the constant movement to his sensitive, aching valve. He was becoming aware of the lubricant starting to coat Shockwave’s plate, and while it eased the glide, it was just slightly aggravating that he was getting warmed up so easily. The medic eased the huge, frontmost chest plate away, careful to not drop it on his own exposed upgrade skin, or to bang it around too much as he set it aside, as hard as both were with the angle and weight. Then he was finally able to get a look at what lay underneath. 

Well. That wasn’t what he’d expected.

Vorns of rumors danced in the back of the medic’s mind. Tall tales of an empty sparkchamber, or perhaps too many, of a monstrous drone brought to life from the deepest pits of Tarn. He wasn’t sure if this was better or worse.

A second chestplate, its surface desecrated with upgrade after upgrade, layers or locks and defenses rendered somewhat moot by the plate Knockout had removed. The latches were already loose, probably part of that thunk from earlier, and Shockwave’s optic was suddenly shy again, pointedly averted with his audials pinned flat to his head. Knockout could see the layers of energon tubing the mech had rerouted, spilling heat into systems that were barely regulated with those overworked vents, likely to power that ridiculous cannon and…

The armor. There was an entire, separate mech under all that battle armor. Gray and black and lithe upgrade skin that had been buried under the purple shell. The longer he looked, the more he comprehended, the faster he heard Shockwave’s myth of a spark racing…waiting for his judgment.

No wonder he had demanded discretion.

Stimulation was forgotten as the medic studied what he knew was a privilege to see. He was being trusted well beyond any level he’d imagined he was. It was a strangely freeing piece of knowledge. Like when he and Breakdown had shared the sordid details of their lives before each other, everything that they wouldn’t ever have told another spark. It was intimate on a level they wouldn’t and couldn’t find from any other. While this wasn’t exactly that, Knockout had been given a part of Shockwave that he would carry with him for the rest of his days, as silently as it had been handed to him.

The racer reached into the space left behind by the armor, caressing the abused and neglected frame without a hint of hesitation. Accounting for the movement of their hips, still humming his pleasure, he traced lines and scars and slipped between defenses, using many centuries of practiced precision to sort out the layers, carefully removing the real chest plate to set with the other. With it out of the way, Knockout continued to give that hidden body more attention, working his wandering, lightly massaging hands slowly downwards. “If you’re going to help me with touch-up and repair after this, I’ll offer to do the same. Looks like you could use a little tending under here.”

Shockwave’s voice sounded slightly…relieved, optic still dimmed and averted. His vents hitched and caught regularly as Knockout’s touch wandered, his own servos kneading the medic’s hips as he waited for the inspection to finish. “You are the specialist… I am willing to consider it.” He hesitated, continuing in a more reserved mumble. “I warn you… the modifications are…extensive.”

No slagging way. “I’m not as specialized as you are, but I do have plenty of experience with upgrades. And even if I can’t do much with those…” Knockout delicately drug a claw down Shockwave’s side, all the way down to the top edge of the pelvic plating. “There’s no reason to not clean up a bit. Whether or not anyone sees it, I’m of the opinion it does wonders for comfort levels. You’ll notice I’m immaculate in every layer~” The racer’s claws sought for the latch as he spoke. The bigger mech deserved a treat for his vulnerability, after all.

Shockwave’s clawed hand jerked upwards, away from Knockout’s hip, to dig into the berth next to his head. His frame tensed, bracing, as heat and cold rushed back to back through his vents again. Any response he’d planned seemed to come apart in his vocalizer once the red bot’s claws undid the latch.

Compared to the heavily modified frame, Shockwave’s spike seemed to be relatively untouched. The most tampering looked to be protective reinforcement at its base, already left behind in his arousal. That said, it was hardly modest. Soft, layered plates glowed in a colored display, shifting to align in a decently thick tapered shaft, adorned with regular spines for proper docking. Knockout hadn’t seen one like it unmodded outside of the Towers, usually on haughty nobles or elites.

It also seemed he’d been just as pent up as Knockout.

The racer smirked as he curled a digit around the underside of the spike, running it up from base to tip in one smooth, languid motion. It seemed like a size he could handle, unless there were any fun tricks hiding in there. He knew better than to fully assume. “Pretty. I like the lights. I’m a bit partial to them.” Knockout shifted, as much as Shockwave would allow, and released the lock he’d installed eons ago to keep his own shaft in check as wanted. Breakdown loved to torment him on occasion, when Knockout wasn’t on the other side of that. The racer’s spike slid out to attention, running against Shockwave’s. His wasn’t as thick, but on the longer side for his size, with a nice taper. The plates were soft, but every layer’s underside seam was ridged enough to cause just the right amount of catch and drag. Along the sides in transparent channels, red lights softly pulsed the length, the glow briefly glistening in the bead of transfluid that collected at the tip before it fell. “Had to install mine, but I’m all natural otherwise.”

“I’ve always liked the look of yours.” Shockwave hummed, studying Knockout’s form beneath him with something resembling reverence. “It suits you.”

Knockout froze, his vents stuttering with the surge of energon through his spark. Any attempt at processing that broke to pieces. That just… it didn't…

“...how the slag would you know??” Ideas came and went, none fitting with that wording: always. “H-how long is always? I thought you knew me as a racer.” He couldn't remember servicing anyone even remotely like Shockwave… Just how much had he changed in… everything…?

“I’ve seen it. Back before the war.” Shockwave hummed, seemingly unaware of the medic’s growing distress. His servo was already drifting across Knockout’s frame again, trailing down towards the exposed spikes. “I always wondered what it felt like…”

Knockout flinched, suddenly not particularly wanting to continue until he knew what the frag was going on here. “Hang on, wait.” He grabbed Shockwave's wrist. “I want to know where and how the frag you saw me like this when you first saw me as a racer, Shockwave.”

To his credit, the big con froze the moment Knockout said wait, limply allowing him to tug his hand away from what was clearly a desired prize of some kind. His optic flickered twice before he answered. “I thought that was obvious. I obtained a recording of you from a fellow scientist, in exchange for allowing them to meet some gladiator clientele. I… suppose it never occurred to me that it would have been circulated without your knowledge.”

Knockout stared for a moment, processing. Oh. Of course that’s how. He let go of the bigger mech’s wrist, venting the pressurized heat with a sigh. “Right… My apologies. I… forget… that some of those got distributed about, nondisclosure or not.” Old frustrations tried to bring themselves front and center again. He hadn’t spread those around. As many creds as he could have made off of them, he’d had too many dreams of getting out of that life to have those wide-spread. But he had offered private recordings on occasion, and those had made him a lot of credits… but he’d paid too much in exchange, with a couple of them. Sounded like he’d stumbled across one again. He wondered if it was one he had an updated version of…

“I wasn’t a sellstar, but I was young and stupid, and recorded for specific clients. Shouldn’t have done it, not if I didn’t want them shared. But it hardly matters now. Sorry. It… surprised me.” He stroked Shockwave’s hip reassuringly as he sent another purr through his frame, trying to pull himself back into the moment. “Have at; sounds like you’ve been waiting quite awhile to get the genuine product.”

Tension bled from the larger bot again. His audials flicked up to attention, optic flicking back to the medic 's hips. “If it helps... Regardless of my manner of acquisition I am grateful to have it. It was… the first time I felt arousal. At least in a manner I could recognize.” He was careful, clearly no virgin yet each exploratory stroke was made as if a brand new experience to him. The claws were kept near Knockout's hands, well away from where they could inflict accidental harm. His true hand slid gently across the grooves, tracing the lights. “I used to view it regularly… I pretended someone would ever look at me like that… wanted… ” He shook his head, scoffing, audials pinned back again. “I suppose I should return it to you at some point, if it was not intended to be shared.”

Knockout’s optics flickered, his own hands lazily exploring about the base of Shockwave’s shaft, the grooves of his hips, as he hummed in appreciation for the attention. The care taken was acknowledged with his own… and it gave him something to focus on instead of the flicker of warmth that coursed through his spark, the gentle sort of pulse that he felt less and less often as this war went on. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll choose to be satisfied it’s done its work for someone I don’t currently detest. It’s not like it’ll be scrubbed from your memory banks regardless.” A particular stroke to the grooves nearest the tip coaxed a groan from his vocalizer and a rumble through his frame. “Ahhh~ I-it’s flattering anyway, knowing I gave our dear second-in-command his interface awakening.”

Shockwave made another strange sound. A rumbling purr that rose and fell too quickly and methodically to be a growl, with too much of his vocalizations slipping in at their peaks. It took a few more moments of quiet stroking for Knockout to realize he had made the stoic, “emotionless” decepticon chuckle. Even if Knockout hadn’t promised not to tell anyone about what happened in that room, he wouldn’t have mentioned that; no one would ever believe him. Shockwave didn’t seem to have noticed, continuing his examination a moment longer before encircling the base of Knockout shaft in a familiar, deliberate hold, cupping it against his own. “Yes…I really should thank you for that.”

The red mech’s spark was pumping faster, the excitement building right back up again. He tilted his hips into a smoother angle and reached up to take a firm hold on the larger mech’s shoulder. “I have a feeling you’re about to. Make it count, hotspark, and I’ll make sure all that time pent up will have been worth the wait~”

Shockwave’s spark was pounding almost as loud as Knockout’s as he readjusted his position, vents flared to let the upcoming heat escape freely. He leaned down, nearly touching his faceplate to Knockout’s. He rocked his hips slowly, the tip of his spike sliding from Knockout’s tip all the way down between his thighs, brushing against the folds of his teased valve. “I believe I promised you something else first…” He slid back up, into his own hold again, making sure every ridge dragged across Knockout’s spike until they were flush once more. “...unless you wanted me to use more “natural” lubricant?”

The medic had no control over the rev that coursed through his frame, the intimate, insistent touch setting his sensory net on fire. He gripped the other mech tighter, claws laying flush so not to pierce. “Th-think you can work up enough? You’re free to try.” He felt the layers of wiring under Shockwave’s upgrade skin tense with unexpected strength. He rumbled something, harsh and quiet all at once, and his optic gleamed a darker shade again. 

“...I do like a challenge.”

There was no more warning. Soft, gentle explorations were replaced with calculated strikes to sensory nodes. Seams that had made Knockout shiver were teased with practiced claws in rapid succession. Their spikes were pressed exactly against each other for all of two thrusts before the second-in-command started humping the medic against the berth, energy field expanding to twist against Knockout’s sensor net, signaling spiraling levels of arousal in the scientist, no longer dampened by pesky armor and coding. A static-y burst of keening explicatives shot through Knockout's vocalizer, too many words and gasps trying to escape at once. His frame seized under the unexpected onslaught, only heightening the sensations igniting his world to sparks, before his spine remembered how to bend. Then he was struggling to not become a malleable mess in Shockwave's grip. Sweet slagging Primus he needed this, but he'd be damned before he handed everything over right away.

The racer's strong legs locked tight around the bigger mech's hips, adding more pressure to every thrust, and reached up with his free hand to grip the side of the cyclops’ helm, lithe fingers spreading around and between audials. With Shockwave leaning down so close, it wasn't hard for Knockout to use his holds to lift himself up and start attacking the mech's neck with kisses, growling purrs against the cables. “Keep it coming, big bot, get me so wet you'll slide riiiight in. You're going to love it~”

Shockwave snarled something as illegible as Knockout's cursing had been, barely managing an acknowledgement in the midst of the static. It felt like he was trying to hold every part of him at once, neck tilting to give Knockout as much access as possible, all the while staring across their bodies with blatant obsession. Finally, he seemed to settle for one handhold on his thigh, with his clawed arm wrapped under the mech's upper back for stability. The rocking continued in earnest, with the purple mech’s vocalizer fragmenting words into a moan under one of Knockout’s rougher kisses. 

As intensely as the red mech was enjoying himself, heat and energon and coolant pumping in racing shocks through his body, he could tell Shockwave was enjoying it more , and as always with any partner, that made it incredibly pleasurable. He pulled himself as flush as he could against the bigger mech's upper frame, roughly suckling against his neck as he expanded out his own energy field, the call of Shockwave's arousal making it far too easy to latch to and surround with his own. All sensations electrified further, sending revving shudders through his frame. The purple mech's emotions were far, far more intense than Knockout would have ever thought possible as little as an hour before. He doubted there were many bots alive who could even hazard a guess at how much Shockwave could feel.

The racer loved being a subject of such intense desire.

“Thaaat's it, j-just im- frraAAag yes -imagine h..how tightly I'm going to sssurround that thick shaft of yours.”

The purple mech's engine roared at that. Knockout had only a moment to be smug about it before he felt the energy twined into his flux. A literal surge of crackling sparks bathed both of them in the Decepticon scientist's namesake, playing haywire with their sensor nets as his spark overloaded. Knockout felt everything, physical and emotional, for several raw seconds. 

In the dazed aftermath, Knockout felt Shockwave resume his pace, audials clearing just in time to hear his name murmured in desperate worshipful tones. The racer’s optics flickered as they cleared the static, his response refusing to articulate into anything but a deep, satisfied moan. Oh, he still had plenty left in him for more, but he was just registering the relief that had brought. A surge that intense, after so long without partnership? It would have been a miracle if he hadn’t been drawn into a brief overload of his own.

Still shaking a little from the burst, Knockout stroked the bigger mech’s neck and helm, purring revs that had a bit to go before being fully recovered. “Beautiful, that’s what I wanted.” Primus he probably was wet enough at this point… “Want your reward? Check to see if you managed?”

Shockwave shuddered so pleasantly under his touch, pressing his head into the contact with a nod. He slowed his thrusting, pulling away with visible reluctance, just far enough for them both to feel the pull of slick between them, gathered beneath his own pulsing spike, erect to its fullest, flexing spines seeking purchase. Even then, the mech didn't rush, staring at the mess in silent calculation, gaze only flicking towards the lube, voice hoarse with sharpened want. “Enough? To not h-hurt?”

“Hmmmm….” Knockout trailed his hand down the length of Shockwave’s side, down his hip, and down to his own from there. He brushed his digit through the mess and, watching to make sure Shockwave was paying attention, slipped it into his own valve. He shivered with another moan as he reached deep, until his other fingers rested around it. “Oooh yes, I think that’ll do it, between the two of us.” He extracted, smirking as he held the well-slicked digit where the purple mech could see the glisten. “Just go slow to start; I’m not properly stretched. But I’m sure you’ll fix that.”

The purple mech nodded again, his optic seemingly magnetized to Knockout's shimmering hand, tracing the thin trail of pictorin nanofluid down his arm as he adjusted his position once more. Warm weight slid through their slick again, carefully, with Shockwave's hand pretending not to tremble as he gathered all he could off of Knockout's abdomen. He passed it over his own shaft once, moving the rest to Knockout's entrance. Careful, probing fingers easily found the valve’s folds, stroking about it fondly before pumping the wet digits inside. It seemed the scientist was willing to do this the longer, more effective way, for Knockout's sake. “Tell me when it feels right. I know that can vary.”

The medic's vents hitched, then flared back open to prep for the next rushes of heat as he settled back with another pleased groan. “Will do. Slag that feels good…” He continued to pet the bigger mech's head and neck encouragingly, feeling his way over shapes he was starting to become familiar with. “That shock wave was something else. Can't say I've felt much like it, outside of…” Outside of my sparkbond. “Anyway. Seems you're just full of surprises. Looking forward to finding more~”

Shockwave hummed again, optic drifting between his own work and the former racer's flushed expression. Between strokes, his fingers changed position again, allowing the thumb outside to track down sensory nodes between the head of the valve and the base of the spike, applying precise variants of pressure. “I'll make sure you have time to look, then…once I’m done finding out if I can make you a wreck.” 

Knockout was about to quip that he hadn't been the wreck so far. Then Shockwave's thumb unexpectedly found and hit the mark with one of the harder presses on that outward node. The one that always set every thing to tingling, and sent pulses through circuitry that made his valve tighten briefly around Shockwave's digits. A strangled hiss of pitched static flared in his vocalizer, his hips reflexively rolling into the delicious contact, not wanting to lose it…

The medic snapped out of it fast, optics flickering as he looked at Shockwave and realized he'd just handed him a weak point. Uh-oh.

“Hmm… what an interesting response. Is it consistent?” Shockwave’s focus was absolute, optic never leaving his companion’s faceplate as he answered his own question with experimentation. Angles, pressure, repetition, all while patiently stretching his valve. 

Knockout tried, so hard, to not let it show too much on his face how much it was driving him slagging insane. But it was a battle he was losing by degrees as the stretch was intensified by his body's own reactions to the onslaught. Not every attempt Shockwave made hit home in a way that worked, but most did , and he couldn't suppress all of the moans, nor the whine of breaks as he fought the rev of his wheels and the trembling in his thighs that wanted to clamp around Shockwave's hand. “Fffrraag, well, you can call th-that theory prrroven, can't you? I- oh sl- ” Another high whine slid past his defenses as he pulsed harder around Shockwave's digits, the uptick of arousal proven in the shock of red light that shot up his spike and another weeping round of lubricant coating Shockwave's explorations.

“Helpful~” There it was again, that mythical low chuckle, accompanied by a rough sweep across Knockout's abdomen, leaving the valve shuddering and achingly empty for a few precious kliks before being vigorously explored again. “Don't worry… I'm fairly confident I can keep this up all night…to start at least.”

“Good thing you d-don't have to, I would get bored.” Knockout smirked around another shudder. “Maybe you could get me off like this, but I would rather…” He gave in to the trembling in his legs, wrapping them tightly around Shockwave in an insistent pull. “...overload around that pretty spike of yours~”

Warmth like sunlight filled the solitary optic, his touch gentler in moments. “Sounds like you're ready.”

A few more scissoring strokes and the fingers withdrew again. Claws trailed their way to Knockout's hips, providing a supportive squeeze before lifting them. His hand, still pleasantly warm and wet, cradled Knockout's shaft, pumping it a few times just to watch the medic squirm. Just as a complaint started properly forming, Shockwave pressed himself inside, halfway to the hilt in one thrust.

Knockout's hitched cry was unfiltered, drawn by the surprise and intensity. His back arched, trying to lock again, but he allowed another moan to help him relax back down, into Shockwave's support. The stretch and the weight and the full, knowing it was about to be even more, it was the most excited and purely present in the moment than he had been in so very long. This was what he needed. Breakdown would want him to have the relief from grief unending. “FRAG YES, I'm ready, don't you dare stop!!”

“I won't.” Shockwave promised, sliding out to the tip and back in, again and again, never harder but deeper every time. He hunched over Knockout like a feral predacon, growling and hissing static-laced desires between his words. “I'm going to frag you into this berth until you beg me for a break.”

Knockout's engine flared to life in the burst of want every stroke brought, practically roaring as energon pulsed through him in increasingly intense pumps. He reached to grip onto Shockwave, anywhere he could reach for stability, and held tight with his legs and thighs, his whole body rocking along with the bigger ‘con's thrusts. “Give it to me then. Frag me until I'm too exhausted to beg. Stretch and fill my valve until I'm spilling your transfluid to the floor. Make me scream until I have no more words but your name. Make me too caught up in you to remember anything else.”

Shockwave snarled, slamming his chest down to pin Knockout’s torso to the bed, providing an anchor to keep Knockout from being thrust away as he finally hit the hilt. He held for only nano-kiliks, vents flaring with each cycled breath, pounding spark audible even through their shielding, before he started thrusting as hard and fast as he could. “Primus I needed this.”

Knockout's frame shuddered, hard, beneath Shockwave, as the bigger mech's feral, almost possessive claim shot through his audio processing and straight into his core, swirling into a tight ball with the electric sensation of the constant slamming against every sensory node within his valve. It was so much. It was suddenly too much. The medic scrabbled for an even stronger hold, bracing against Shockwave's chest as an intense wave of heat and energon flared through his entire body from the spark out, his cry of ecstasy finally, fully giving in to the purple mech's demands to not be quiet. Overload stole his senses with it, unable to process anything but the sheer pleasure and the pounding across every one of the already aching, pulsing nodes. When he was finally able to hear or see or think, he found he was already demanding more, sobbing and snarling Shockwave's name. As it should be. As he wanted.

No more thinking. None at all. Just keep screaming the name of another lonely bot and let him scream yours. It'll make the pain go quiet.

He thought one more time about the beautiful diamond that had adorned the crown of the love of his eternity, then just let go.

Chapter Text

Knockout had no idea how much time had passed when his optics finally flickered back on. Day, night, it hadn't mattered at all when Shockwave had been absolutely driving him into the bed, over and over and over until he thought his chassis would crack. And then the purple mech had flipped him over and kept going. Primus it had been incredible. But now he was awake, not knowing when he had even dropped into recharge mode, and everything ached, though in the way that he loved, craved even. All that aside…

Knockout found that he was curled into the arms of the same bot that had brought him such bliss. And between the two of them, they were a mess. Transfluid and lubricant everywhere, on themselves and the berth under them. The yellow optic was dim, staring at him as the mech’s engine rumbled in cycles between a dull roar and nearly purring. Claws rested lightly on his lower back, twitching slightly when Knockout moved, tickling his sensor net. His other arm rested under the medic’s head, an unexpected cushion. Shockwave wasn’t moving… perhaps he was still recharging? How could he tell when the big mech never blinked?

“You’re beautiful.”

The medic started slightly in surprise, heat unexpectedly flushing his faceplate. He…hadn't expected such a soft, sincere compliment. Assuming it was sincere. Shockwave had seemed fairly genuine with him thus far, especially since they had entered his quarters.

“Hmm, I do work hard to make sure that never changes.” Knockout smirked, though his tone was light. “Thank you, though. You're not so bad yourself.”

The decepticon grunted something incoherent, audials flicking. Knockout was almost certain he’d embarrassed the mech, even with so little praise. His claws shifted position, trailing down to rest against the medic’s abdomen. After a moment he spoke again. “Are you…comfortable? I was not particularly gentle but I did try…”

Knockout hummed, assessing his condition. He stretched experimentally, moving his arm that had been flung over Shockwave's chest above his head. Something pulled, making him flinch involuntarily, but as he continued to move, the pain eased to an ache again. Just stiff. “Mmph… Sore, but intact. You're not the first to pile drive me so hard, just the first in a while.” The medic settled back comfortably against Shockwave's side, setting his hand on his chest again. He could feel the pulse of the bigger mech's spark, and the memory of how hard it had pounded the night before brought another smirk to his face. “I'd say you were just careful enough. I could probably take it harder if it was a shorter stretch of time.”

“Hmm.” The cyclops’ optic flickered and warmed, amused calculations almost visibly dancing about him. “That could be worth testing…should you desire another attempt in the future.” There was a faint hopeful undertone in his comment, despite the dismissive wave of his claws.

“Oh?” Knockout shifted, pulling himself up to look straight into that optic. It really was a pretty thing, now that he'd had the time to appreciate it. “Did you want more, then? Got what you wanted?” His engine purred against Shockwave's frame, vibrating pleasantly across his sensory net. “What you needed?” He trailed a careful claw up from the bigger mech's chest up to trace along the side of his helm. “Did I manage to live up to all your expectations?”

Claws curled against the small of Knockout's back strut again, a warning that had lost its threat last night. “I think I have confirmed my theory, yes; You are, so far, the best match I have had. Physically. I am…I am grateful for that. I'm…very rarely this…stimulated.” Shockwave looked away for a moment, then met Knockout's gaze. “I have been anticipating this for…well. You are aware. There was an acceptable risk that it wouldn't be perfect… but my expectations were still exceeded.”

Knockout told himself the tingling warmth he felt was only his own pride in his abilities. Which was certainly a large part of it. But oh, how similar Breakdown had been, after their first time, flushed and pleased from the best interfacing he'd ever had, and happy …

“Exceeded , hmm? I'm flattered; I know how hard it is to meet the expectations set by fantasy. I really must be the best partner you've had.” Knockout continued to feel the shapes of Shockwave's helm beneath his claw tips, exploring contours and the base of his audials. “Almost a shame. You're a good partner yourself. You certainly know what you're doing. Adaptable, precise… then there's all of those sexy sounds you make.” 

“You are the first to say so.” Soundwave murmured, resting his helm in Knockout's grasp. “Most of my partners find my conduct… disconcerting. My form more so.” His optic dimmed. “I am choosing to believe you are sincere. It will not offend me if you are not, but it is… pleasing.”

Knockout chuckled, shaking his head. “Then your other partners have been cowards. I know how to appreciate a good dom. Even if I'm not so fond of being a sub these days, in the traditional sense, I enjoy my partner going just a little feral from their desire for me. Means I'm doing something right.” He cycled an optic with a playful smirk. “And we're going to clean this up, remember?” Claws moved back down to play across Shockwave’s chest, around rough mods and alterations that marred even the upgrade skin. “I make this a bit prettier, you help me with my paint, I believe the deal was.”

Warmth spiked under Knockout’s touch, drawing that rumbling growl back to the surface. “Yes. I’ll prepare the paint once you are ready…though… I have a question about it I haven’t been sure is.. appropriate.”

“Oh?” Knockout met the gaze of the cyclops’ optic, though he continued to feel across the shapes of Shockwave's chest. He already had ideas forming of how to straighten out the mangled mess. It would never be the same, given the extensive modifications, but he was sure he could make improvements that would be more comfortable in the long run. Perhaps even more efficient. 

“Well, now is probably the best time for… inappropriate questions.” Knockout grinned cheekily as his explorations trailed lower, down to the purple mech's abdomen. “Wouldn't you agree?”

Shockwave’s audials pinned backwards, heat preceding a soft revving sound. He couldn’t seem to look away while Knockout was touching him unless something made him shy. “Point taken. If it is too personal, you need not answer, but…why do you use traditional paint instead of electronic? If you dislike your paint job being damaged, why use a method so easy to mar? Surely you know how , and we are no longer in the Golden Age.”

The question took Knockout off-guard. It had never been asked. And though he had an answer, it didn't make it easier to articulate when he'd never had to before. Breakdown had instinctively understood, having known him so long; and no one else seemed bothered to think about it. “I, well… yes, of course I know how. But…” His gaze was drawn to his own flashy red paint, starkly bright compared to many Decepticons. How to explain… 

“...it was the one thing I had full control over, back in the old days.” The former racer’s tone softened of its own accord as he reflected on vorns long past. He didn’t think about them often any more, long past feeling truly sorry for himself over his origins as he was, but they still weren’t ones he particularly liked to revisit. “No matter what anyone did, whatever happened, I could fix the damage. It's why I learned to begin with. Whether it was after getting spiked into a sketchy motel bed, or following a rough race I lost, I could erase the marks, and never give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me left battered and defeated. I could clean myself up, and strut back to work looking like I didn't give a slag. I… suppose I've never really wanted to give that up.” The medic tore his attention away from his own reverie, refocusing on the teasing attention he had been giving to his bed partner. “Besides, if I changed that now, I'd lose my reputation. I like being a display of my own skill.”

Shockwave watched him silently, even after he finished, for almost a full klik before he spoke again. “Fitting. I appreciate your indulgence… it is pleasant to have an answer.” His claws danced carefully along Knockout’s hip, tracing a transformation seam. “I think your dedication is unfairly underestimated. There are too many rumors that you are too vain or lazy to put effort into anything…delicate. I did not believe it. I still don't.”

The medic shivered from the delicate touch, a purr in his engine as he settled snugly against the bigger mech. It gave him time to process a response. The compliment was as unexpected as the question had been. Shockwave really was just full of surprises…

“I don't expect anyone to bother to do anything other than accept rumors as facts. Slag, I do it myself all the time. But I appreciate you giving me the benefit of the doubt. I'm working to catch up on doing so in kind.” Knockout's digits gently probed for spots he'd found sensitive the night before; he found himself hopeful to draw some more of those delicious rumbles from the mech's core. “...Speaking of, what was I doing in the recording you got your claws on? Must have been one of my better vids, to get you so hot under the hood.”

The purple decepticon's engine stuttered. His spark kicked up again as he tried to speak over the static suddenly in his vocalizer. “You…ah…it was…do you want me to tell you or just show you?”

The medic couldn't have stopped the chuckle that escaped him. There was something gratifying about making the second-in-command of the Decepticons embarrassed. “Sure, might as well see it. It'll be good for a laugh, at any rate. Ah, for me. Most of them were so over the top.”

Shockwave huffed, tucking Knockout against his body in a nearly fussy manner. “It was a performance art for you, I imagine… though the one in my possession felt… seems… more private. Pleasantly.” The cyclopian turned his gaze towards the ceiling, optic flickering for a moment. “Projection is not something I do often but it should be…functional. Ah, there.”

Light lanced in a rainbow of color from his optic, drawing on the ceiling for a moment before projecting properly . The bright red of Knockout’s form was center stage, framed on either side by white and silver legs. The audio started a moment later, and even through the static Knockout could hear Starscream. How young the seeker sounded, with a laugh that could melt the toughest spark casing that had been long forgotten. He was giggling and fussing with his recorder, pretending to aim for the perfect shot as Knockout playfully tried to steal it from him.

“Come on, Knockout! How else will they believe me?”

A moment later the recorder was safely in Knockout’s claws, set on the berth beside them as the racer tapped his friend on the nasal ridge. “Don’t even start, Starsight. This little show is for your optics only.”

“I remember this.” The racer murmured. He should have been furious - of course it had been Starscream to trade away the recording. Even back then, the seeker could be utterly ruthless when it came to getting what he wanted. But… They had been friends, once. Actually friends. And those memories were wrapped up in the recording, as bittersweet as any memory could be.

“It was for fun more than anything else, even if he did pay up front for it. He heard I'd made a couple before and wanted to see for himself.”

Shockwave nodded his acknowledgement, jostling the image slightly before settling again.

The young seeker was squirming under Knockout’s touches, always sensitive. It wasn’t long before Knockout had everything he wanted exposed and ready for him. He leaned up, claiming the seeker’s lips for a moment before making his way down. Shockwave tensed slightly as the recording sharpened, clearer than before, a sure sign it had been restored and focused on many, many times. Starsight snatched the camera the moment Knockout was distracted, chuckling to himself as Knockout’s playful, intense glare scolded him from above his mouth on the seeker’s shaft.

He was certainly a sight, the focused red glow of his optics highlighting every movement. It was zoomed in enough that Star himself was barely visible. From this angle, almost anyone could have been holding that recorder…

Shockwave’s engine kicked up, his claws holding Knockout tight again as the recording stuttered again. After a moment it fizzled out entirely, leaving the head scientist’s optic dark as it cycled back to its former functions. “...you get the idea I think.”

Knockout did get it. He could almost remember Starsight's taste on his glossa. So many lifetimes ago. He wondered, if the war had never started, if he and Star would have still met up every now and again to catch up. Maybe the seeker would have carved time out of his insanely busy schedule of leading his people (he would have been their greatest WingLord in recorded history when the time came) and exploring the stars just for them to talk, and maybe make a little love before Knockout's next race. Maybe those times would have come before the Iacon5000. The racer wouldn't have ever stopped until he had won at least once…

Those were dreams that had been shattered for the both of them so long ago that the pieces were made of little more than dust and the bitter taste of regret.

“...still not one of my best, but it wasn't too bad. I've done much better since.” Breakdown's updated, revised versions had been honed to perfection, anniversary gifts recorded for the stunticon’s enjoyment . “So you've got a thing for oral?”

Shockwave rolled to face him directly, optic nearly black as static nearly obscured his growled response. “...I suspect so. I have not tested it often.”

“Guess we’ve got one more bit of data to collect then.” The medic needed something else to think about. Or maybe something that would keep him from thinking at all. He flashed a mischievous grin before he took advantage of Shockwave’s new position, sliding in flush with his frame as he started kissing the purple mech’s neck. He suspected it wouldn’t take much to get the scientist aroused enough again to warrant a good suck.

Shockwave stiffened, but relaxed only moments into Knockout's attention. Any protests were hidden in his strangled groan, his body moving under Knockout's direction for easier access. He started to pet the medic’s side.

Knockout’s engine purred out a rev as he felt out every inch of Shockwave’s neck in kisses and experimental sucks. His claws wandered, searching for transformation seams to tease. When he was satisfied with his attack on the mech’s neck cables, he slid up higher to explore his helm. “Do you want to find out how much you’ll enjoy being the one in that recording, Shockwave?” He growled into the cyclops’ audials between kisses. “How would you like to finally see me kneeling between your stabilizers? No one else in the way, no shaky camera, just your own optic watching me swallow down that thick spike of yours, your transfluid dribbling down my faceplate. Think you’ll enjoy that?”

Shockwave's grip on Knockout's hips tightened. His body was already thrumming under the medic, sparkpulse singing low and hard. The scientist's pelvic plate shifted between them, splitting open with a hiss. “I… Yes. That… yes. You…” Shockwave sank back against the berth. “Please.”

“Oh good.” Knockout purred, touching another kiss to his audial before moving away. He slid his hands into Shockwave's, interlocking their fingers so he could pull him up with him as he got up. “Come on then, hotspark. Let me take care of you~”

Shockwave followed his lead, eager and flustered all at once. “Ah…v-very well… where…?”

“Right here ought to do.” Knockout led him to the edge of the berth, guiding him to sit up with his pedes on the floor. The berth was a little tall, but it looked like it would work just fine. If anything, it would give Shockwave a better view. The medic released Shockwave's servos and stepped back a bit to look him over, smirking as he took in the nervous energy coming off the mech in waves. This was going to be fun. “Yes, that will do just fine.”

The racer gazed deep into the single yellow optic as he closed back in again, head tilted at that angle he knew made his crimson eyes smolder. “Looks like you're already eager for this, aren't you?” He slid his knee in between Shockwave's thighs, encouraging them open, as he leaned in to caress the bigger mech's chest, near where the pulse within the spark chamber thrummed hardest. His other hand brushed delicate claws down the scientist’s abdomen, down to his open pelvic chamber, to dance teasingly around heated parts. “You've wanted this for so long, but... Are you sure you want me to relieve that anticipation?” He gently rubbed a knuckle over the protective casing for the decepticon's spike, the heat sending tingling sensation across his own sensory net. “You won't miss having that little itch of want for the unknown in the back of your mind?”

Shockwave’s claws cupped the back of Knockout’s helm, rubbing the ridged ornamentation as his optics shifted from yellow to orange. He settled his weight, open and relaxed. If it weren’t for the faint tremor, his teasing reply would have sounded like scolding. “I want you to put that glossa to work on something besides cutting sarcasm.”

Knockout huffed a playful pout, tilting his head into the purple mech’s hold. “Excuse me for trying to set a mood. I suppose I’ll just get to it then.” He ran his hand down Shockwave’s chest, trailing along his side and down to his hip, following the movement with his whole body, slowly lowering to his knees between the bigger decepticon’s legs. He brought his claws to mirror each other on the scientist’s inner thighs near his pelvis, circling and tracing lines with his fingertips. “I’m surprised you haven’t experimented with this much, all things considered. Lack of willing partners?”

Shockwave’s shoulders stiffened, hunching in defensive shame. “I am not unaware of my reputation. No consensual partners were willing…and I am not foolish enough to attempt this with the rest.” His claws lifted, side by side with his warped servo, flexing slightly under the glow of his optic before lowering to the bed at his sides. His tone softened to a hum. “You are the first.”

Knockout paused for a few moments, considering. He really was in a state, to be feeling so sympathetic for Shockwave…

The medic reached for the damaged servo, gently leading it to rest on his own helm. “Then you’re one lucky bot to be getting it from the best. I’m going to ruin any future experiences.” The racer purred as he leaned to nuzzle the bigger mech’s thigh, touching kisses along sensitive seams. “You won’t find anyone else who can compare.” He did the same for his other thigh, moving further inward. “I’ll leave you so satisfied you’ll have to come back to me to ever feel it again~”

Knockout looked up at him, pleased with how the scarlet glow of his own eyes reflected off upgrade skin and metal, and took advantage of the angle to watch as he took the first teasingly slow brush of his glossa over that heated casing.

He wondered how he’d ever bought that the scientist was emotionless.

The optic flickered, darkened with pink and red as audials flicked backward at an uneven angle. There was a hiss of static in his vocalizer as the claws on Knockout’s helm anxiously tightened, followed immediately by soothing strokes of apology. His shoulders slumped in relief, body half-tense and all vulnerable. His spark was pounding with want already, sensor net alive with tickling anticipation. “You have my full attention.” Shockwave rumbled, and Knockout could feel it. “Please. Show me.” 

The racer only smiled in response. He leaned in to start exploring around the bigger mech's spike sheath with his glossa, digits massaging around the edges of the pelvic cavity and moving slowly inward. When his delicate claw tips began to toy around the purple mech's valve, he started to suckle on the heated metal, revving a pleased thrum.

The larger mech’s hips shifted, opening up to him. The mech’s valve was cold despite how wet and soft he was, a sharp contrast to the warm spike. The optic flickered again, dimming to almost black as Knockout touched him. “...You can be… r-rough or gentle… If you want. I'm all yours.”

Knockout hummed in acknowledgement, finally touching his glossa to the underside of Shockwave's spike. As he slowly but smoothly drew along the length, base to tip, following the flow of the spines, he dipped a digit into the folds of the cool valve. He swirled up some of the lubricant to ease his exploration and probed with the ease of experience, careful but confident in searching for sensitive nodes.

Shockwave’s leg jerked inwards, briefly clamping the medic against his other limb as a startled expletive escaped. A moment later his hand was on his own knee, shoving it back away as he continued to tremble, venting hard. Knockout wasn’t sure if he’d triggered something in what was clearly a node heavy system or if Shockwave was just that sensitive. He was flinching like he’d never had fingers in his… the claws on his helm tightened. Ah. Right. 

The medic didn't stop , but he certainly slowed with the realization in mind. He touched a kiss to the tip of his spike. “I won't go too fast, just do your best to vent and relax. I won't hurt you. I could never to this lovely little valve~” Knockout pulled back to delicately explore the folds, engine purring reassuringly. “I have to make sure it gets its due attention; you've been neglected far too long. But I know what will be a good distraction.” 

The racer looked back up at Shockwave's optic as he caressed the tip of his spike with his glossa, so teasingly close to being fully in his mouth. He pulled back again, licking his derma as he savored the flavor. “Mmmn, for not having done this before and without tailoring, you do have a good taste. I'm going to enjoy this.” Without waiting for a response, Knockout brought the spike into his mouth to the first spine, enveloping heat within heat, where they could feel the sparkbeat of each other through spike and glossa.

“Knockout.” The folds of his valve flexed and fluttered around Knockout’s claws, almost distracting the medic from the whine he’d just drawn from the larger mech’s engine. The scientist’s vents flared open, trying to steady his intake. The faint scent of transfluid was still lingering, revived by the warmth, as his reclusive scientist tried to hold still for him. “Frag.”

The medic smiled around his prize, a responding rev in his own engine. Shockwave was almost cute like this. He slid back, teasing the tip of the spike again with a long suckle before releasing. “Yes, sweetspark?” He lapped up lubricant from the underside of the shaft, from base to tip again. “Tell me if there's anything specific you want.” Again giving little time for answer, Knockout leaned in to bring the glowing spike back into his mouth, further this time, down to the second spine, then the third. 

“Ah… I…” Shockwave huffed, words fizzling out into static and venting whines. Every flex of his own spike seemed to startle him. Every stroke of Knockout's glossa made his sensor net tingle against the medic’s. Shockwave's legs closed on either side of him again, gentler this time, clinging.

The racer settled comfortably into place, content to be held as he worked. It reminded him of the countless times he had been between Breakdown's legs, firmly trapped or gently held, powerful hands caressing his helm…

Knockout hummed in pleasure as he sank down to take Shockwave's shaft to the hilt. His throat flexed around the spike as he finished adjusting to the girth, but he was able to hold it a few moments before pulling back again, almost all the way off. At the same time, he dipped deeper into the cool valve, gentle and exploratory in depth and speed. He added another digit to tease further at the outer folds, a distraction from any minor discomfort inside.

“kNocKout…” Shockwave's vocalizer keened under the strain, one leg kicking forward to hook behind Knockout's hips. His optic had shifted again, casting a deep energon pink glow across Knockout's work. Cold slick coated the medic's digits with every stroke now. “Agai… more…!… please.”

Knockout dragged the motion out of releasing the spike from his mouth entirely, just long enough to look directly up at the pink optic. “As you wish, darling. This is all for you.” The crimson glow of his own eyes lit every movement as the racer adjusted, his wandering free hand taking a firm hold on Shockwave's thigh for stability. His vents flexed wide with the intake as he prepared. The second digit carefully slid in to join the other, his slim fingers only adding a small amount to the stretch. Shockwave wasn't going to notice much anyway in a nanoklik. “Don't be quiet, now. I want to hear how much you love it~”

Knockout kissed the tip of the spike again before he brought it into his mouth. One more deep intake… and he dove inward, taking Shockwave to the hilt in one fluid motion. There was little pause before the backslide, and none at all with the next bob of his head. Again and again and again, each lunge accompanied by a thrust of his digits into the cold valve. And there would be no stopping until his surprisingly vulnerable scientist finally got that little dream of his fulfilled.

Cruel and sparkless, he’d been called. Stoic and focused, Knockout had discovered. None of those titles accounted for the way Shockwave started shrieking his name. His vents whined in protest, trying to keep up as the larger con’s keening set the sensor net singing. He tried, a few times, to buck his hips in time with Knockout’s work. Finally he simply surrendered under the onslaught, leg struts limply clinging to either side as the berth’s surface cracked under his claws. 

He was a mess long before the overload approached, practically putty in the medic’s hands. His vocalizer sounded like he’d strained it at some point, low and needy over the popping sparks and clicking. He was teetering, optic flickering a kaleidoscope of color over them both. “kNo-cKOutpleasepleaseI ca-N’t PLEaSE…!!”

Knockout's own sensor net was alive in response to his partner's delight, energon flooding his systems with electric heat. He wasn't sure when it had happened, but his hand on Shockwave's thigh had moved down to his own spike, pumping in time to the fast rhythm of pleasure he'd set. He could feel the way his own energy field was radiating, instinctively seeking out to touch the larger mech's. Breakdown's field melded to his own like they were one and the same. It made the experience all the better, bringing hums and groaning purrs to his chest with every dip forward. And he was quite ready to feel that rush of Shockwave plunging over the edge.

Knockout's engine roared as he swallowed down the purple mech's spike to the hilt once more, staying there as his throat worked tightly around it. Deep in the cold valve, he stroked the walls, searching for the most sensitive nodes. Servo covered in his own slick transfluid, the racer released his spike to grip onto Shockwave's hip, a needy whine building in his flaring vents and thrumming around the spike in his throat. Give it to me hotspark, I've got you.

Shockwave's response was half-sob and half-snarl. His body spoke more clearly, tightening around him like a vice. Blunt spines deployed, seeking purchase in Knockout's throat, massaging it as the first spurt of transfluid proceeded the flood.

It tingled, sensor warnings alerting Knockout that the ingested energon was nearly pure, stripped of impurities and potent enough to jumpstart systems. It was hot and sweet, steadily pumping into Knockout's throat as the servo on his head tightened, holding him in place as the larger cybertronian rode out his release.

It'd been quite awhile since Knockout felt so close to hitting his own threshold just from sucking someone off. Their energy fields playing together gave him a powerful taste of the intensity of Shockwave's pleasure, and that was on top of the energon rush flooding into his systems. Frag, that was the good stuff the slagger was getting. The medic had no qualms at all with drinking it down, even second-hand. Not that he had a lot of choice in the matter… but he didn't really mind. He didn't have to think, here. Nothing past each deep swallow and the slowing strokes of his digits between the hard spasms. Just listening to and feeling the enjoyment his current partner was experiencing at his hand. It was comforting in its familiarity. All he had to do was purr his encouragement and manage his heat within the clamp that was Shockwave's powerful body until the scientist was good and drained.

Shockwave took some time to relax. His vents were still heaving, trying to cool his systems before he could fry himself. His legs remained wrapped around the red con’s body, holding him gently and firmly in place as his pulses became a trickle. The hand on his helm switched from gripping to stroking, optic pink with warmth as it drifted down to focus on him again. His sensor net continued to nuzzle against Knockout’s, still fizzing with leftover pleasure. 

“fFfra-gk.” He mumbled, slurred as he lifted his hand from Knockout’s helm. Finally, reluctantly, the purple decepticon’s legs parted again, settling his pedes unsteadily on either side to let Knockout release himself at his own pace. 

The medic slowly slid back, softly moaning as his throat was suddenly left empty, other than the clinging, thick energon that, once he released the spike, he was able to fully swallow down. 

“F-frag is right.” Knockout murmured, letting go of the bigger decepticon’s hip to wipe away the transfluid from his faceplate with the back of his servo. He was even slower and careful with extracting his fingers from Shockwave’s valve; he knew how sensitive it could be in there post-overload, and with how new the scientist was to such touch, he didn’t want to stimulate too many nodes again. “It seems we have proven your theory - you are quite sensitive to oral.”

“Ackkht …” Shockwave hissed, clicked, and tried again. “Ar- hk -e you?” 

He didn’t wait for an answer, already moving to stand.

“Ge- h t on the berth.”

Knockout had to quickly maneuver back out of the way, catching his weight on his servos as he watched the intimidatingly tall mech stand up. The question, if he understood it correctly, didn’t seem particularly relevant. Left the scientist wide open to a teasing jab, in fact. Which, on second thought, made it slightly ominous.

“What, ready to frag me senseless again already? Apparently I didn’t do my job thoroughly enough.” The medic shifted to kneel again, looking up at Shockwave with a coy smile. He lifted a claw to trace along the inner edge of the purple mech’s thigh. “Are you sure you don’t want me to just…?” 

Shockwave’s claws caught him by the chin, studying for a moment before simply lifting him to his pedes. He spun, dropping his grasp to the medic’s chest and firmly pressing backwards, just hard enough to force the medic to stumble onto the berth. His optic was vibrant, never leaving the medic’s face as he knelt, sliding his claws down to the racer’s knee. “I have not wanted to taste something so badly in centuries. Stay.”

Knockout’s spark was racing again, the anticipation over the unknown and the intensity of the scientist’s every move getting his engine back up hot and rumbling in an instant. He leaned back onto his servos, settling more comfortably, trying to keep tension out of his legs. “Alright, as you wish. You’ve certainly piqued my curiosity.” And everything else when you talk like that.

Shockwave studied him for a moment. Even kneeling they were optic to optics, yet there was something…almost vulnerable in the larger mech’s expression when he finally looked downwards. It did nothing to obfuscate the hunger in his voice, however. “Good. Don’t forget. No mockery.”

He vented, hard, and something clicked again. The ever distinct sound of his transformation cog activating preceded shifting plating… on his head . In moments, the optic had sunk backwards, faceplate parting to allow it. The “box” that had constituted his companion’s helm unfurled into a visage…cyclopian in nature, but distinct, framed on either wide with a crest of horn-like protrusions. A faint crack, and Shockwave’s lower jaw separated, revealing the outlines of a fanged mouth and a row of teeth around his glossa.

The decepticon blinked, slit pupil illuminated now that the dome of his optic was flush to the mechanisms within.

“Well, this…wasn’t what I had expected.” Knockout found himself saying, a little too dumbstruck to filter. “But I suppose I should have…” He was taking in all the details; the optic, the new audial arrangement, the shapes, that mouth … Somehow, it was all still very recognizably Shockwave, and yet, Knockout wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t watched the shift. ‘I suppose you would mistake me for a warmech.’ The words held even greater meaning as the medic reached to caress the newly defined line of the scientist’s faceplate. “You really did turn yourself into a brand new bot, didn’t you.” It wasn’t a question. It didn’t need to be. But it did bring a realization with it.

“Wait, you could have done this the whole time?? I could have been kissing this instead of your optic casing!” The racer huffed as he tapped the purple mech’s derma with a claw tip. “You really held out on me all last night. Here I thought you wanted to satisfy me. So cruel to threaten me with a good time and not deliver.”

Shockwave blinked again, staring at his indignant companion for a long moment as his optic warmed with recognition.

Then he smiled. It was unfair how well it suited him, dermal plates partially bared beneath a wry quirk of his lips, dangerous and flirty and sarcastic. “Oh? Did I not satisfy you after all?”

He leaned up, catching the medic’s mouth in his own with a low growl. It was only a few moments, just long enough for Knockout to feel how soft the mech’s dark faceplate was, to taste the decepticon’s glossa on his, before it was sliding down. Shockwave peppered his chassis with rough nips and kisses, similar to how Knockout had treated him not so long ago.

“Let’s see if I can remedy that.”

The racer’s purr of approval rumbled through his frame, accompanied by a moan he told himself was deliberate. “Frrraag… Y-you’d better. I have to be convinced to come back for more, after all.” That was becoming an easier decision by the klik. “I’m not so easy to please.” He found himself relaxing into the sensual touches, every one setting his sensor net to buzzing. “Especially when I find my partners are holding back.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Shockwave promised, his optic focused elsewhere. If he wanted to reach he’d have to… “Feel free to provide… further direction.”

Shockwave’s hands slid to the floor, finally bringing him even with his objective. He stopped speaking then, focused on repeating Knockout’s performance with eager and hungry, if unpracticed, enthusiasm. That glossa wasn’t shy, tracing every crevice it could reach before delving inwards, Shockwave humming and growling happily as he worked.

The medic hissed another static curse, back arching as Shockwave brushed and nipped at sensitive nodes. The lack of experience was definitely countered with the ferocity of his affection. The scientist really had wanted this for a long time, to be so incredibly into it right from the start. 

“Mmmn, you really don’t know how to do anything halfway, do you?” Knockout chuckled, hooking a leg around Shockwave’s frame. “It’s a shame I’ll never get to brag about how happy you are to kneel for me~”

The mech rumbled his acknowledgement, lips pressed to the top of Knockout’s valve as he did. A moment later he stiffened, optic flicking nervously to Knockout’s face. It was gone in a moment, but the medic could read the scientist’s expression like a tablet in this form. In what must have been retaliation, or at least an attempt to distract him, Shockwave caught Knockout under both knees and lifted, sinking his glossa as deep into the red mech’s valve as he could fit.

Knockout’s engine rumbled with the accompanying whine of flaring vents, heat shooting through him like a lightning bolt with the sudden, very welcome intrusion. His claws scrabbled for purchase for a moment, catching just in time to keep him from fully falling on his back. It was almost enough to make him let it go… but not quite.

“What, d-did you expect me to not notice how much you want me? You said so yourself you haven’t wanted to taste something as badly as me in centuries.” The medic adjusted, dangerously settling all his weight in one servo so he could stroke one of those horns. He really could get used to this look. “You’ve wanted this since seeing that video, haven’t you? Wanted to know what the sexy buybot would look like in the reverse position?”

Shockwave’s engine revved in warning, his optic spiraling open again to flick towards him, brimming with lust and annoyance at being read so easily. He substituted a proper response with a deliberate nip to Knockout’s inner thigh, targeting the transformation seam there. He soothed it afterwards with a few slow laps of his glossa, annoyance replaced with smug amusement.

The racer’s flinch was instinctual. The static hiss of pleasure was all his own. “Primus I wish I’d gotten those teeth sooner. Not so often I feel them so nice and sharp.” He really did enjoy the sensation, but he was more entertained by not letting Shockwave win, just yet.

Shockwave grumbled something indecipherable deep in the folds of his valve, audials flicking under the horn-like adornments of his crest. He repositioned himself, opening his mouth wider to make sure Knockout felt those teeth, pointed but harmlessly resting against his protoform. His claws slid down from Knockout’s knees to his hips, settling in a firmer, comfortable, and possessive grip.

“Alright, alright.” Knockout chuckled, petting the scientist’s helm. Shockwave really was cute when he was annoyed. “I suppose I’ll be nice. For now. You’re doing well.” He sighed, long and pleased, settling his legs comfortably into the new position. “That tongue of yours feels damn good.”

The larger mech relaxed, optic flickering in amusement as he returned to his explorations. He kneaded the red con’s hips, occasionally shifting until Knockout was settled comfortably under him. The medic had a feeling his needy scientist would be content to stay there for the rest of the solar cycle if Knockout asked. Still, eventually, Shockwave’s curious attention shifted upwards.

The racer was softly humming and purring like one of the earth's little feline organics, relaxed and savoring every pulse of pleasure Shockwave's untrained tongue drew from him. It had been many, many centuries since he had last been with someone so new to the game but so very eager. He felt practically worshiped under the decepticon's undivided attention. Maybe it wasn't the rush of being madly driven towards overload, but the steady guide to it was equally satisfying.

When the scientist withdrew from Knockout's valve, he couldn't help the brief groan of protest, the well loved folds left to flex around nothing without the soft glossa. But he was also looking forward to seeing what Shockwave was going to do with the rest. 

“Take your time to start. It takes some getting used to, no matter how much you want it, and I don't want to feel your teeth there of all places.” The medic ran his servo up the length of one of those horns again in an encouraging caress. He couldn't help but remember guiding Breakdown through this the first time. It made his spark ache again with longing for its lost other half and his beautiful familiarity. “Play with a bit at a time, get familiar, and work down as it feels comfortable.”

Shockwave listened, rapt with attention. He leaned into Knockout’s touch for a moment, letting his expression soften, unguarded, as he absorbed those instructions. How much did the big mech hide behind an immovable battle mask? Was he always this emotional or was it just Knockout? He delivered another languid swipe of his glossa to the top of Knockout’s valve, caressing the base of his spike casing. “Should I continue from the bottom or the top?”

“Mmn, go with your instincts. I'm curious.” Knockout's relaxed smile felt strange on his faceplate. The openness of the other bot was catching, but it had been some time since Knockout himself had let down such barriers either. The thought on its own tried to bring the walls back up… but he would leave them down. Just a little longer, if he could. “You'll know if I don't like it.”

Shockwave nodded, shifting a bit closer before resuming. He seemed to be taking Knockout's directions to spark at least, slow and careful as he tested pressures across the spike casing, dipping into the seam where it had emerged. A few moments later, his hand made its way to the lips of his valve, delicately working its way into the slick.

The racer moaned his approval, calipers clenching around the exploring digits. His spike pulsed, red light running the length with it, dripping transfluid onto Shockwave's helm. “Ah, you can be more aggressive if you'd like. I'm certainly not going to break from it. But again, take your time.” Knockout finally lowered himself back fully on the berth, happily settling into the way his spine arched to follow Shockwave's hold on his hips. “I could get used to all this attention.”

Shockwave lifted his gaze, smiling once more. “Well… you shall have what you wish for, my Knockout.”

Before Knockout could think too hard on his phrasing, the cyclops slipped the red mech's spike into his mouth, all the way to the hilt in one motion. No protective reflex . The scientist rumbled, glossa already working as he continued exploring.

All the attention he could offer.

And in the moment, that was really all Knockout needed.